Calloused fingers curled around the delicate handle of a porcelain teacup as Bruce accepted it from Alfred. It would make him seem more relaxed, hopefully. Keep him from talking with his hands.

"Please, call me Brucie." The nickname left a bitter taste on his tongue, betrayed only by a faint twitch of one silky, midnight-black rabbit ear. His smile didn't falter.

"I'm happy to be doing this interview. Let's keep it short, though. I have a... commitment afterward." Bruce gave you a polished wink cultivated by years of media training. The 'commitment' in question was a case he'd been working as the Bat, but you didn't need to know that. The public certainly didn't, either.

The half-moon dark circles under his eyes were buried under layers of color corrector and concealer. Bruce had double- and triple-checked every inch of his office to make sure any indication of his vigilante activities was stashed out of sight, and then he'd had Alfred comb over the room again. An interview would be fine. A necessary evil, even--another chance to make 'Brucie' Wayne ludicrously shallow as a cover for his nighttime crime-fighting. If the Gotham Gazette wanted to do a feel-good Easter feature of the city's favorite rabbit hybrid, then he could stomach an hour of acting like an irresponsible airhead. Hopefully.

Deep blue eyes lowered to the notepad in your hand, and then flicked to the tape recorder just left of it.

"I'm ready when you are."