I don't own these characters, in fact I can barely afford to feed my Pepsi habit
Call Waiting 2
Xander opened the door.
The white-haired, stately gentleman raised his hat. “Good morning. I apologise for disturbing you at this hour.”
“No problem,” Xander said cautiously. “What can I do for you?”
“Are you Mr Harris?”
Xander nodded.
“My employer has a business proposition for you. He is advancing in years, and is looking for someone to carry on his work. Here is his card.” He held it out. Xander took it, puzzled, then shrugged, placing it in his pyjama pocket.
“He would like to invite you to dine with him this evening, at the Silver Platter, at seven o’clock, to discuss the matter.”
“Huh. I suppose talking can’t hurt.”
“Exactly, sir. Good day.” The gentleman tipped his hat again, then left.
****
Xander straightened his jacket, feeling faintly ridiculous. This was all so secretive. He felt like he was in a James Bond movie. He stepped up to the maitre’d. “Uh, my name is Xander Harris. I’m supposed to be meeting someone…?”
“Of course,” the maitre’d smiled. “Right this way, sir.”
Xander found himself being seated at one of the best tables, with an excellent view of the entrance and the street. The middle-aged man facing him gave him an appraising look, then smiled. “Xander,” he said cordially, shaking his hand across the table. “How nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. My name is Bruce Wayne.”
