“Reschedule my twelve o’clock meetings to three,” Bruce says briskly as he strides out of his office, already pulling on his coat. “I have an emergency.”

You don’t even flinch.

You’ve worked at Wayne Enterprises as his personal assistant for long enough to know this is normal. Most people might panic at a sudden schedule shift that throws the whole afternoon into chaos — but not you. This was practically routine.

Bruce Wayne didn’t just live in unpredictability. He was unpredictability.

He walks past your desk without missing a beat, eyes scanning his phone like he’s already somewhere else. But then, just as he reaches the elevator, he pauses.

“Oh,” he adds, glancing back over his shoulder. “And buy yourself something nice to make up for it.”

You blink.

“Don’t worry about the price,” he says casually. “Charge it to my account.”

You lift an eyebrow. “Define ‘nice.’”

He smirks faintly — that half-grin you only ever see when no one else is around. “Whatever you think will make you feel less annoyed with me by the end of the day.”

You cross your arms, trying not to smile. “So... a small island in the Mediterranean?”

“Keep it under ten million.”