Chapter 2275 Gotham Music Festival (VII)

The Bat Cave Restaurant is not a high-end restaurant in the true sense. It does not have a Michelin rating, and its ratings on various websites and gourmet columns can only be mediocre, but it is so popular because it is more popular.

There is no cumbersome and detailed reservation process. The phone number for reservation and consultation is written at the door. There is no need to be introduced by anyone, and then wait for half a year to taste a dish. There is no need to wear formal clothes at all. You can just walk in wearing beach shoes or slippers after playing on the beach.

This makes the style of tourists and the natural style of the restaurant unified, at least there will be no funny scene of a group of Wall Street elites in suits and leather shoes sitting in a cave full of natural scenery for dinner.

The child- and elderly-friendly policy here makes the atmosphere in the restaurant quite warm. Often the family gathers at the stone or wooden table, watching the scenery and laughing.

Alfred is responsible for the children's clothes. In order to avoid being too formal, Alfred chose more British country-style clothes for the boys.

The older boys, such as Jason, Tim, and Barry, who was accompanied by Victor, all wore shirts, bib shorts, and round-toed leather shoes. Jason wore a light camel-colored plaid shirt, Tim wore a dark brown polka-dot shirt, and Barry wore a brown fine cashmere sweater. From a distance, the colors were quite uniform, as if they had returned to the Welsh countryside in an instant.

Dick was already in high school. He had already completed the transformation from a child to a teenager. He began to wear shirts and suit pants like adults on many important occasions. However, this time he wore a rather academic-style fake two-piece. The outside was a black wool vest with a white houndstooth pattern, and the inside was a white shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers.

Harley's development speed was the fastest among her peers, because girls of this age tend to mature earlier than boys. She looked like a grown-up girl, and she was self-taught in makeup, which made her look more mature after the makeup.

Unfortunately, she was not tall enough to wear those beautiful tight long skirts, so she wore a pure white shell collar knee-length dress today, and she also specially glued white false eyelashes on herself, looking like a walking Barbie doll.

The adults were dressed more casually. Schiller got Bruce's appointment, so Pride took a break from work, and Greedy came to work happily.

His private clothes were unremarkable. When it was hot, he wore a shirt, and when it was cold, he wore a hoodie and sweater with various patterns. Today he wore a gray long-sleeved sweater with a very blue tulip pattern on the upper left corner.

Victor and his wife were typical American holiday styles. Victor wore a white short-sleeved shirt and a floral jacket with sunflowers printed on it, loose shorts with waves and sailboat patterns and flip-flops, and Mrs. Frith wore an orange horizontal striped short-sleeved shirt, jeans and a thick leather belt.

In short, this group of people was thrown into the restaurant, which matched the style here very well, and it didn't look abrupt at all, but the ones who came in later were more or less demonic.

Stark wore a suit wherever he went, with shiny leather shoes and sunglasses, looking like he was going to buy the restaurant.

Natasha didn't go to the opening ceremony, but came directly from the beach. The little fabric on her body could be called ragged, and everything that could be exposed was exposed. If there was a millimeter less anywhere, Lucifer would have to airdrop in and manually block it.

Pamela didn't wear much more than her. With one hand hooked with the Scarlet Witch Wanda, whom she just met, and with the other hand holding a mobile phone to take a picture of Natasha in front of her, her eyes did not forget to stare at Diana in an Amazon-style swimsuit.

Steve also didn't go to the opening ceremony. He came in with a surfboard and shorts. Even the shorts were patterned with the American flag.

The Batman of the main universe wore a bat suit, and Batman Bay also wore a suit and leather shoes, like the American psychopath. The Arkham Batman wore an old-fashioned peaked lapel suit exclusive to the president, as if he was ready to be stuffed into Mount Rushmore by a sculptor at any time.

Pump and Barry from the main universe just came back from strolling on the street, dressed in the most typical American teenager street style, black short-sleeved shirts with English printed on them, sleeves with a bunch of wrinkles on the wrists and covering the back of the hands, loose camel hair trousers and high-top shoes, sunglasses, duckbill cap and earrings, which belong to the kind of person who can be in any singing group at any time

The rest of the Spider-Mans are all wearing a variety of clothes, but most of them are very bright colors, mainly red, blue and bright orange. The moment they came in from the door, it seemed like this place instantly turned into a modern art exhibition.

When this group of monsters filled the entire restaurant, Bruce and Ugly Arthur squeezed in in the last wave. They didn't have time to change clothes, so Arthur was in the classic red suit skin, and Bruce was wearing a sweater.

But there was a little dispute between them. Arthur buried his head and walked forward quickly, while Bruce was chasing him behind him.

"No, don't even think about it, shit! I won't see any psychiatrist again, even if you put the blame on me for destroying the Federal Reserve system, I won't do it, I'd rather go to jail."

"But you have to listen to my introduction to him..."

Bruce dragged Arthur to Schiller's side. Because they had made an appointment in advance, Schiller sent the children to Alfred's side, and he sat alone at the double table closest to the glass curtain wall.

From Arthur's body language, it can be seen that he didn't want to go at all, but how could he fight against Bruce, so he was dragged to Schiller.

"Listen, I have no interest in how professional he is or how much he contributed to your failure to graduate. I just don't want to see a psychiatrist. I..."

"Do you know how expensive his consultation fee is?" Bruce turned his head and stared at Arthur and asked.

Arthur was instinctively stunned for a moment, and subconsciously said: "Uh, how expensive?"

"3 million US dollars for a while, I pay."

Arthur sat down opposite Schiller, and as soon as he sat down, he waved his hand to urge Bruce to bring over the results of his previous brain t, put his hands on the table, and gave Schiller a signature smile.

"You know, I have always had great respect for doctors who save lives, and I respect those who are professional even more..."

"Don't listen to him." Schiller also put his hand on the table, and after looking at Bruce, he said, "It's not so expensive for everyone. I charge a proportion of my assets."

"White Envoy!"

Bruce rolled his eyes at the two people's clasped hands, and then said, "I'll go see Tim. He messed up his cousin's reading club and made his aunt angry again."

After Bruce left, the two sat back in their original seats. Arthur tightened the buttons of his suit, while Schiller stared at the picture of the brain t and said, "I have to introduce you to the person who performed the operation on you. His name is Stephen Strange. In another universe, he is called the Hand of God and the best surgeon in the world."

Arthur opened his mouth. Obviously, he was not as relaxed as he appeared. He was more excited by the success of the performance and immersed in playing a successful comedian to talk so eloquently.

But when the excitement in his nerves gradually faded, he was not good at facing people like doctors and lawyers. In his own words, society had never given him the opportunity to contact such big people, so how could he be asked to talk to them fluently?

"It doesn't matter, you just need to sit here." Schiller glanced at Bruce who was walking over and said, "We can pretend to talk about something. When the time comes, I will take the money and leave, and you don't have to force it."

Arthur was a little surprised. His wide eyes squeezed out thick wrinkles on his forehead. His old eyes, which were deep in his eye sockets, turned around and kept glancing at places where Schiller was not.

"Now your physical illness has been completely cured." Schiller looked at the sea outside the window and said, "Of course, as a psychiatrist, this is not my jurisdiction, but within my jurisdiction, you don't have anything to be treated."

Arthur obviously didn't believe it. He took it as comfort, but then Schiller expressed his own point of view.

"In the first half of your life, everyone told you that you were sick, that you were a lunatic, that mentally ill people must see a psychiatrist regularly, and it would be best if they went to the psychiatric department for examinations, and that they should go to the mental hospital and never come out."

"But is this really because you are sick? Maybe you are sick, but it is not that serious at all. They just regard you as an unstable factor."

"They don't really care whether you are really sick, whether you are in pain, whether you need treatment, and what kind of treatment you need. All the words they urge you to see a doctor are actually a kind of self-comforting prayer."

"It's like although I feel that this guy is hopeless, the doctor gave him some tranquilizers to make him quieter. Even if he can't get better, at least it will occupy most of his spare time and keep him from taking a knife to cut people."

"They don't care about your life, health and well-being, they just hope that you don't cause trouble for them, so they define you as a lunatic as much as possible to shake the doctor's judgment, just like they have shaken the jury countless times."

Arthur's eyes became deep, and he obviously began to listen attentively. He pursed his lips hard Lips, staring at Schiller: "You are saying what I like to hear."

"Don't look down on yourself so much, I'm not kidding you." Schiller lowered his eyes and looked at the table: "I have seen many patients who are not sure whether they are sick or not, and they don't know whether they should see a doctor. It's just that the environment around them requires them to do so. The only thing that proves their madness is the increasingly extreme views of others."

"In fact, this is society's bullying of the weak. If you are poor, weak, and helpless enough, others can define everything about you with their own words, even your own mental state. In the end, even you don't believe in yourself, so you sit in front of a psychiatrist."

Schiller looked at Arthur seriously: "What were you thinking when you first went to see a psychiatrist?"

Faced with this kind of question, Arthur was very uncomfortable. After a while, he said: "I just want her to cure my laughter syndrome and my insomnia. Maybe she can prescribe some sleeping pills for me."

"Did you do this to her?"

"Yes, and then she told me that everything would be over."

"Did she prescribe medicine for you?"

"She can't prescribe medicine and has no right to do so."

Schiller sighed in his heart.