"Hello, Mr. Wickton," Bruce said. "Is there anything you need?"
"Not exactly, I just noticed while reviewing your application form that you don't have a driving license. May I ask why?"
"Where I'm from, you don't need a license to drive." Bruce had obviously thought of an excuse long ago, "I've been driving a tractor since I was seven, and no one's ever asked me for a license."
The other person showed an understanding expression, then said, "Typically, it's best to have a driving license before joining. Do you have any agent you know? You can still get one now if necessary."
"No," Bruce shook his head, "I don't know any agents. But why is a driver's license necessary?"
"Newcomers in the Brotherhood are responsible for driving," Dali said, "Without it, it might affect your evaluations. I have a good impression of you, so I'm reminding you. Otherwise, I can introduce my agent to you."
"Thank you so much." Bruce smiled at him, "However, my driving skills aren't great; I might need more practice then."
"No problem, there's plenty of time." Dali smiled back at him, "By the way, have you gotten the clothes ready for the next interview? You shouldn't wear what's today; otherwise, you might get laughed at."
"A friend of my dad lent me a solid suit, looks pretty decent." Bruce said, "But even if it's not the best, it's already the best I can bring out."
"I could lend you a set," Dali said, "We're about the same size, wearing mine might increase your chances."
"Thanks for your kindness, but I don't often wear suits, might end up ruining it," Bruce began to act shy again.
"You take it first." Dali took a suit from the person beside him, handed it to Bruce, then said, "I also need some help in the Brotherhood. I have high hopes for you. We have some business in Kansas State, we can talk more once you are selected."
Bruce had no choice but to take the clothes.
After Dali left, Stark said, "What's up? He wants to date you?"
"It's not that simple." Bruce lowered his gaze toward the suit in his hand. Just one look, and he frowned.
The suit was stored in a box, which was very odd. Generally speaking, more expensive suits are custom-made, and wouldn't have branded packaging box or bag like ready-made suits. Most are directly stored in non-woven fabric bags. Of course, some more particular tailors might have special packaging, but it's mostly with soft fabric, with their own emblem or signature on it. I haven't seen high-end suits packed in a cardboard box.
Opening the box, inside was a neatly folded suit. This in itself was incorrect because typically custom suits aren't folded, with time it would create wrinkles that can't be ironed out, especially those made from special materials that are harder to deal with.
Moreover, this suit looked worn, which is mainly judged by whether the shoulder line and cuffs had been stretched out. Bruce had worn close to a thousand custom suits and could tell such details at a glance.
However, the folding and packaging manner of this suit seemed to imply it was new, deliberately emphasizing its newness by folding it and putting it in a box, as if afraid people won't know it's new.
Bruce had to deduce that if one wanted to save face and not spend much, gifting an old suit, there's really no need to use new packaging. After all, his current persona is of a poor small-town boy, even without any packaging, just draped over his arm, he'd have to feel grateful.
If the point was to earn more favor, gifting a new suit isn't much more expensive either. Judging by Dali's attire, he shouldn't be short of money.
Bruce understood the psychology of wealthy individuals well. Rich people fear trouble the most; they prefer spending money to resolve matters requiring time, and are even willing to pay double to avoid speaking one unnecessary word. So if it's simply to show goodwill, directly buying a pricier ready-made suit and gifting it along with the price tag intact would be best.
As it stands, going through the trouble of finding an old suit, re-ironing, packing, and even finding a box to place it in feels as unnecessary as wearing pants to fart.
There are two possibilities; either Dali isn't truly wealthy—a ready-made suit isn't cheap for him—so he chose to use his old suit, pack it, and give it to Bruce, spending some minor money for favor.
But then there's another issue; he could surely spend much less money to gain favor. Upon inspecting the suit, it wasn't cheap, though it couldn't compete with the suit Bruce picked. It's roughly worth twenty thousand US dollars, considered quite decent.
Furthermore, its upkeep was excellent, definitely not an item one couldn't wear outside. If he indeed wasn't that wealthy, he could entirely keep it and gift a cheaper one, or simply present some fashionable trinket, expressing wishes for interview success and achieving the same effect.
Therefore, he is likely up to something. Bruce gazed down at the suit inside the box. Honestly speaking, this suit was rather ugly, not only antiquated and unsuitable for this season with its russet color but also in a plaid design, even Thomas would find it tacky on Martha. Its only feature might be standing out in a crowd.
Bruce sat back on the bed with the suit. Stark glanced at the clothing with disdain and said, "Who would wear something like this, Willy Wonka?"
Bruce was still pondering Dali's intentions, while Stark wiped his hands and stood up, taking the clothing from the box, held it up against himself, and then said, "I need a warm coat anyway, let me wear it."
Bruce thought he already had that other suit he picked up earlier, and Stark might go to the lake to scout out a spot for a stall; it's windier and colder there. Though this suit was a bit ugly, the quality was decent, and it wouldn't hurt to give it to Stark.
Stark immediately went to the restroom to change clothes. To be honest, Stark suited the outfit much better than Bruce. Bruce sized him up and then said, "You look like a nerd who's never been on a date, inherited a suit from your grandpa, and wore it to a ball."
Stark rolled his eyes fiercely, adjusted his sleeves and collar, and said, "That's still better than you; I bet if you wore it, you'd look like a serial killer."
Bruce thought about it and realized it was true. His looks and demeanor had a bit of gloominess, combined with this odd, mismatched suit, they'd be reluctant to let him in for an interview tomorrow, fearing he'd pull out a gun and start shooting.
"If you're going to the lake, be careful," Bruce warned again, "Don't go onto the boat easily, don't get too close to the water, and if you see anything strange, pretend you didn't."
"Got it." Stark waved his hand, "I'm almost twice your age, and I don't need you telling me what to do."
Bruce thought about it and agreed; Stark from the Prime Universe was definitely battle-hardened, and his personality was too pragmatic, with a smell of profit above all else—a pure businessman, not the type Madmen fancy, with a low probability of being targeted.
The day quickly passed, and the two spent the night without a word. The next morning, when Bruce woke up, Stark was already gone. But Bruce knew those fishing folks loved to get up early, especially for competitions. Most started before dawn and finished by noon; if they got up late, they'd miss clients.
Bruce tidied up a bit and put on the suit he found yesterday. Without hair gel, he just dampened his hair with water, hoping today's wind would help style it nicely.
Returning to the Brotherhood's event venue, the atmosphere was noticeably more serious this time, with no standing outside. The shortlisted candidates were lined up in the corridor. Bruce became the center of attention as soon as he entered.
Honestly, if he dressed casually with his portrayed family background and those naive, shy expressions, it wouldn't clash saying he was a small-town boy. But putting on this high-end suit made it hard to continue the act.
Bruce was careful enough; he hadn't buttoned the cuffs or fixed the collar, not even tying his tie, just wearing a shirt inside and a pricey suit outside. He thought this was already incredibly rude and clumsy.
Yet, one side was that he was genuinely handsome, on the other side, his charisma couldn't be hidden. Even if he deliberately messed himself up, it had that relaxed vibe of old money. Unbuttoned cuffs looked like a billionaire vacationing and fishing on a yacht, no tie as if heading to the Wimbledon match, written rich from head to toe.
Bruce could tell problems were brewing from the looks of others around him. He thought to himself, "Shiller, Shiller, why did you have to kill someone so wealthy? If you killed someone less rich, I wouldn't be exposed this easily."
But Bruce still stood at the end of the line, pretending to be uncomfortable with others' gazes. When someone approached to chat, he could only smile and respond, finding the biggest difference between himself and others, the point most prone to exposure—he lacked any sense of flattery.
Everyone standing there knew well; they came here aiming to climb higher. Joining the Brotherhood meant more resources and better connections, an opportunity for social advancement. So, they'd seize every chance to chat with upper-class people, trying to gain their favor to broaden their future path.
So when they spoke with Brotherhood members, despite trying hard to showcase themselves, there was always an eager, flattering sense.
No matter how Bruce tried, he couldn't replicate it; he just wanted to get a free dorm. How small the heart is defines the stage size; like attending a symposium, while dignitaries discussed humanity's future, you just wanted to show off a fruit platter—naturally lacking any flattery, a form of strength from having no desires.
"Bruce Wayne, is Wayne here?" Someone shouted from inside, "Please let Bruce Wayne in!"
"Coming!" Bruce raised his hand immediately and walked in quickly. As soon as he stepped in, he saw Dali's deeply furrowed brows.
Dali did indeed stride over quickly; he was about to say something but then examined Bruce's suit and whole appearance closely, his expression slightly stiffened but still spoke: "You came, why aren't you wearing the one I gave you?"
"Sorry, but Dad insisted I wear a suit from his friend, I don't really understand." Bruce tugged at his suit hem, trying to act awkward, "I actually prefer yours, it's more vibrant, surely would make me stand out, but my dad is so stubborn, I couldn't help it..."
"No problem." Dali nodded and said, "There's a banquet later; you can wear it then."
Bruce weighed his words inwardly, sensing an implied meaning. Why was Dali so insistent on him wearing that ugly suit?