The train is as noisome, full and dirty as always, the kids are rude, and there is at best a cop in each station. He keeps meaning to fix that, but his budget, both in dollars and people, is as tight as always, too, and there are places in Gotham that need them more.
But taking the train home after watching opera is still one of Commissioner Gordon's guilty pleasures. Guilty because he knows that he is putting himself -and, worse, his colleages- at risk if somebody kidnaps him; a pleasure because it reconnects him with Gotham, lets him be in Gotham instead of merely taking care of it.
He thinks -knows- that if his only contact with Gotham were the politicians and snobs he meets at parties and the cops and criminals -sometimes so hard to tell apart- he shares his life with, he'd have packed his bags and left this hellhole years ago. Or worse, he'd have stopped caring.
But the too-tired waitresses and office workers he shares the night train with are Gotham, too, and a Gotham that is worth fighting for.
He can see, reflected on one of the windows, a twenty-something guy walking through the passengers with the careful apathy of a petty thief, his hand darting more than once to take something out of somebody's pocket. A greedy one.
Gordon tries to hide a predatory smile and takes out his raincoat to expose his back pockets. Holding the raincoat in his hands and facing away from the guy, he tries as hard as possible to look as an old, frail man with a probably loaded wallet.
The guy slides next to him, seemingly pushed accidentally in that direction by the crowd.
He loves Gotham.