Well, well, well: so the Saviour of Gotham City turns out to be a rich guy into role-playing. And a major closet case, from the sound of it.
Barely slept last night. I've read and re-read the letter at least six times now, and every time I just come up with more questions than answers. More than ever before, I realize I don't know how to feel about this guy. It's obvious that he's totally fucked up. But there's something about his story--his real story, if I can even trust him to tell me the truth--that I find incredibly attractive. Or maybe it's just the outfit giving me this constant boner.
One thing is clear: as soon as I wrap up this entry, I'm calling Peter to cancel tonight's little get-together. Then I'm taping that, uh, bat-signal back in my window.
I have no idea what's coming next, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss it.