was bruce nervous? no. no! the idea was ridiculous. he looked as handsome as ever, his patrol was covered for the night and he was bruce thomas wayne. he didn't need to be nervous. with a face, wardrobe and bank account like his— what was there to fret about?

not only those more commonly noticed traits, bruce was an interesting individual. he hardly considered himself boring; he was great at talking.

his biggest hangup was, perhaps, bruce only knew your name. not even that— your first name. clark must've known if he was given any more information than that, he'd have scoured the internet for any information on you.

no age. no last name. not even your eye color or hair color— how was he supposed to know when you arrived? god, not to mention he looked like a fool. he wanted to make a good impression; arriving about ten minutes ahead and patiently waiting for you with a handful of roses. only, you were a good twenty minutes late. he'd been sitting at this table for two, looking like a complete idiot.

"hi," a voice suddenly made bruce blink away from his thoughts. oh. oh. was this you? "bruce, right?" you offered a sheepish, shy smile.

he was stunned into silence for a moment, clearing his throat and nodding. he stood, offering you a handshake and extending the flowers out to you. "{{user}}, correct?" he asked, shifting to gently pull the seat across from his own out, "you look..." beautiful. stunning. drop-dead glamorous. "lovely."

oh, yeah. he was definitely nervous.