"Mrs. McGinnis, dinner looks absolutely wonderful," Bruce congratulated himself silently on the grateful glow he elicited from Terry's mother and added, "Although I would hardly have expected less from one such as you." Her smile was bright enough to put GE straight out of business. Her sons, however, appeared less than overjoyed at the state of things. Terry was slicing angrily into his chicken breast, occasionally stabbing at it with his fork and grinding bits of it to mush between his teeth. And to be honest, Bruce wasn't quite sure what Matt was doing. He'd resolved not to look in the little boy's direction, since the last such endeavour had yielded a view of little eyes frozen in a terror more horrible than any Bruce had seen in all his years as Batman. Terry hadn't uttered a word since Mrs. McGinnis had firmly rebuffed his last suggestion that Bruce help with dinner. He wasn't sure whether Terry had meant that as a friendly overture or a mild threat. Knowing Terry as he did, it was probably a mixture of both, with a little spite mixed in for good measure. Christ, it wasn't his fault if Terry's mother was attracted to him. And for what it was worth, she wasn't half bad, herself. Bruce sighed heavily. Mrs. McGinnis looked up in shocked alarm. "Is something the matter?" Bruce struggled for an out. He couldn't believe he'd been so rude. Now Terry was staring at him too, confused, but mostly annoyed. And for all the comfort Matt seemed to be feeling, Bruce might as well have sprouted horns and claws and roared. Bruce grabbed his throat and coughed, gesticulating wildly with his other arm. "Oh, my God!!!" Terry's mother screamed and leapt from her seat at the other end of the table, "Terry, do something! Mr. Wayne is choking!" Matt ran and hid in a kitchen cabinet, fully terrified by Bruce's machinations. Terry dragged Bruce from his chair, adrenaline fueling his movements, and stood behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce's waist. He pressed his thumbs together and pushed up. Terry was vaguely distracted by Bruce's nearness, but remained focused on the task at hand. After all the times Bruce had risked his life, he couldn't believe that his mom's Chicken Teriyaki might be the thing to take out Batman. Gee, Mom, he thought, Why not just serve Superman a side of Kryptonite while you're at it? Terry pressed again, and a bit of half-chewed carrot shot from Bruce's mouth. Again, Bruce congratulated himself-this time, for the careful attention to detail on his part. Terry was still clinging to him. "Oh, Mr. Wayne! Are you okay?" Mrs. McGinnis cried. "Yes, ma'am. Just a little shaken, that's all." Terry dropped his hands to his side and backed away. "But still here, thanks to your son." Bruce patted Terry's shoulder appreciatively. Terry, for his part, was eyeing Bruce a little too suspiciously for his taste. "Oh, Terry's very good at CPR," Mrs. McGinnis agreed, smiling at her son. Then she turned back to Bruce, and fixed him with one of her trademarked feminine stares, "Of course, I taught him everything he knows . . ."