Crane turned around, expression shifting entirely. He looked different, briefly--there was a flash of something in his gaze, his glasses perched delicately on his nose. He looked mildly annoyed, though he as quite good at hiding it--and just as quick as the emotion showed he busied himself with neatening his tie.

"I told you. Thugs--they're no threat. Possibly The Batman. Gotham has an odd criminal of sorts--calls himself a vigilante. Enjoys running around in a bat mask and fighting crime, Tillman. It's precisely as absurd as he sounds, unfortunately, his tricks of the trade far exceed mine. See, I'm not looking for a fight."

He slides himself into a car, en route to an empty parking lot. Not so much as glancing at Tillman until, suddenly, he decides to continue the conversation the moment they're in the back of a van.

"I'm interested in the mind, and how the mind works, Mr. Tillman. An army of thugs is none of my concern, nor is it the concern of any of my employers."