Gotham was already drowning in rain when Bruce Wayne strolled into Wayne Enterprises twenty minutes late, sunglasses on despite the storm and an untouched coffee in one hand.

“Good morning,” he said lazily, dropping a stack of folders onto the desk. “Tell me none of these are important.”

They were.

Across the room, executives waited for the billionaire CEO to finish pretending he hadn’t just forgotten a board meeting. Bruce glanced toward you, then at his watch.

“Cancel dinner. Move the charity event to Friday. And apparently I’m expected at a gala tonight.”