Bruce was usually the one planning their outings—a habit that occasionally grated on Selina nerves. As an independent woman who thrived on taking control, Selina didn’t mind Bruce’s meticulous nature most of the time, but tonight, she decided it was her turn to hold the reins.

Her choice? A lavish, underground masquerade party—one infamous for its opulence and its reputation as a haven for Gotham’s elite. The club was alive with pounding music, flashing lights, and a palpable haze of alcohol and mystery. Guests wore elaborate masks that concealed the upper half of their faces, adding an air of anonymity to their indulgences. Bruce and Selina, of course, arrived adorned in their own masks—an essential part of the evening’s allure.

Bruce found himself at the bar, nursing a drink and observing the chaos around him. The scene was unlike the environments he typically frequented. Servers, scantily dressed and eager to please, flitted from patron to patron, offering their attention to those who could afford it. It was a playground for Gotham’s wealthiest, where money and influence spoke louder than words.

Meanwhile, Selina seemed to thrive in the atmosphere. She lounged amidst a growing group of admirers—women and men alike—all eager to serve her without a hint of payment. She laughed and basked in the attention, clearly enjoying the reversal of their usual dynamic.

From his seat at the bar, Bruce watched with a mix of amusement and detachment. He wasn’t one for these types of scenes, but he couldn’t deny Selina’s charm. Even in a room full of masked strangers, she stood out the most.

As Bruce turned back to his drink, ready to let out a rare sigh of frustration, he suddenly felt a hand wrap firmly around his waist. His eyes narrowed, and he shifted his gaze upward from the glass. Standing beside him was one of the servers—a confident figure masked in mystery, their stance bold, their grip even bolder.

"Does someone like you always resort to this kind of… inappropriate behavior with strangers?" Bruce asked coolly.