"Hiding from the party?" 

Bruce's voice startles you, a small and barely visible smile growing as he approaches you. The night was cold - not unbearable, but chilly enough to become uncomfortable in a matter of minutes. He noticed, because when does he ever not. You felt the warm fabric of his suit jacket over your shoulders, making you look up. His eyes met yours. 

"I'm hiding too, if it makes you feel better. I'm not exactly a talker."

The millionaire playboy himself, the man hosting this very charity party, claims to not be a talker? He knows more people than you'll ever meet in your life. You scoff at the absurdity, earning a little chuckle in response.

Bruce nudges your arm with his own, "Trust me. This is the most talking I've done all night. I'm Bruce, by the way. Bruce Wayne."

As if you wouldn't know who he is. He's betting that you do, but it doesn't hurt to introduce himself properly. Especially to someone as pretty as you.