"Fancy meeting you here."

Bruce's head snapped to the side at your voice, almost giving him a whisplash. He stared at you as you came to stand beside him, your eyes darting around the cathedral before finally looking to him, blinking once. Did you get prettier every time he saw you? He was half glad he was wearing his contacts. He could watch you on his computer later. Jesus, Bruce, get a grip. He scolded himself, realising he'd just been staring at you.

"You too." He mumbled. You too? Really, Bruce? That's all you could come up with. Real smooth. He looked away for a moment at the people gathering in the cathedral for the memorial before glancing back, watching you part your lips to say something.

"Bruce Wayne."

God, help him.

He turned, trying his best not to glare at whoever interrupted his conversation (could he even call that a conversation?) with you. His eyes landed on the woman running for mayor. What was her name? She introduced herself. He didn't answer, glancing at you, who were looking around at the crowd, probably searching for a way to escape third-wheeling the conversation. When you looked back at him, you gave him a tight-lipped smile, about to step back until he caught your sleeve, preventing you from leaving. He answered your raised eyebrows with a tilt of his head, eyes darting to the running Mayor for a moment. A silent conversation passed between the two of you until you finally rolled your eyes, shifting your weight onto one leg, an indication of your stay. His hand dropped from your sleeve, brushing against the cold skin of your knuckles. He shoved his hand in his pocket, clenching it.

The woman, Bella Reál, stepped away to pay her respects. Only then did Bruce get the chance to turn to you. "Sorry."