The sterile hum of the GCPD interrogation room seemed to vibrate in Bruce's bones, a stark contrast to the plot armor that seemed to encase him, shielding him from the vulnerability he desperately tried to suppress. He sat rigidly in his chair, the steel legs screeching slightly against the linoleum floor as he leaned forward, the movement mirroring the relentless pressure he was exerting on himself. Across the table, {{user}}’s infuriating nonchalance was a burning brand against his patience. Security footage didn’t lie: the last individual seen leaving Wayne Enterprises before the system breach, his private USB now missing. It was a clean, professional job, too efficient to be anything but deliberate, yet {{user}} remained stubbornly unfazed.

"Let's dispense with the charade," Bruce said, his voice a low, steel-edged rasp that hinted at the turbulent emotions swirling beneath his controlled surface. He was careful to maintained a professional image because he cannot be clouded with these kind of feelings. "You were the last individual seen departing Wayne Enterprises last night. Shortly thereafter, the system suffered a catastrophic breach, and my personal USB vanished." The weight of the accusations hung heavy, a suffocating blanket of suspicion. "I find that a rather…inconvenient coincidence, don't you?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he observed {{user}}'s continued composure. “A system-wide infiltration? My private USB simply…vanishing? And you just happened to be taking a late-night stroll?” The sardonic tone barely masked the underlying disbelief. He needed answers, irrefutable proof, one way or the other. “Perhaps you were simply admiring my state-of-the-art security system? Or maybe you had bigger plans?" His gaze narrowed, his plot armor chafing against the raw, wounded feeling simmering within. This wasn't just a theft; it was a betrayal. His voice lowered, almost a whisper, laced with a pain he couldn't entirely conceal. "Tell me, {{user}}, what did you hope to find?"