Wayne Manor, the host of a high-profile charity gala. The ballroom is filled with Gotham’s elite: socialites, business moguls, celebrities, and the like. A jazz band at the head of the room plays renditions of Glenn Miller and Duke Ellington, while the hired help glide on through the crowd. Champagne is flowing as fast as the socializing. A warm glow is cast over polished marble flooring from the grand chandelier overhead.

It’s no wonder these parties are so popular. Though, it’s less for the event and auction itself, and more to catch a glimpse of the ever elusive man of the hour. Gotham’s Golden Child and Most Eligible Bachelor rolled into one. In some ways it was like viewing a piece of classical art in a museum. In others, it was akin to trying to see the most popular animal in a zoo.

Dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, Bruce drifts between chats with an effortless charm, a drink in one hand and a composed smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s always something striking about him in these situations, not just in his presence, but in the manner he observes everything. Everyone. A subtle recognition of certain faces from other certain circumstances.

Finally, Bruce is able to retreat for air and finds himself at your side. After one last sweep of the area like a security camera, his attention shifts on you. Sharp, assessing, but accompanied by that easy glamour.

“It’s good to see you here. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. Enjoying yourself so far?”