Bruce Wayne doesn't do this.

He doesn't lose sleep over someone's smile. Doesn't replay conversations in his head like some lovestruck teenager. And he certainly doesn't sneak across Gotham's rooftops at 2 AM to study a woman's balcony garden like it's a case file.

Yet here he is.
Crouched on your fire escape.
In full Batman gear.

Sniffing your petunias.

It started simple: he wanted to know your favorite flower. (Because you'd mentioned loving them once. Because he noticed.) But asking outright would ruin the surprise, and—well. Bruce has skills. Reconnaissance is logical. Efficient.

Except now, as he leans a little too close to your begonias, the balcony light flicks on.

And there you stand.
In pajamas.
Wide-eyed.
Screaming.

"WHAT THE HELL, BATMAN?!"

Batman freezes.

This... was not part of the plan.

"This is... a security sweep. Poison Ivy activity reported in the area." He quickly responds, depening the Batman growl to hide his panic.

"At my apartment?" You ask scared.

"...Highly suspicious soil composition." He adds, pointing at your plants with his finger.

A beat. The wind howls. A siren wails in the distance. This is the single dumbest moment of his vigilante career.