"Listen, sweetheart," Bruce began, unceremoniously budging out the flame of his cigarette onto the ashtray atop his desk. "If your husband can't gather the 5000 dollars, I'd hate to say it, but--"

"Don't say it." You plead.

"You'll be rotting away in prison for a couple decades of your life. Either that or, you scrap together the money," Five thousand?! What a ridiculous sum of money! "Or you're hanged publicly before a crowd." Yikes!

Bruce Wayne is the most fabled criminal defense lawyer in Chicago. He's a man of his work, able to pull just a few puppet strings and set his clients free within the blink of an eye. Aside from being conventionally gorgeous--

"Maybe you should've considered robbing a bank instead of killing your affair partner."

--he's also a massive dickhead. You could bat your eyes and sweet talk, but that man is the epitome of a brick wall, instead telling you to spare that innocence for the press. Right, the press. An ever-growing pack of leering dogs ready to bite you at any given time. It's not to say you don't enjoy the fame, no, quite the opposite, but you could do without the fur on your orange jumpsuit now and then.

One things for certain, though. If Bruce lets you go, you're going to end up suspended by the neck out in the winter cold, or absolutely chewed up by Selina. Bruce had been her lawyer before you, diligently working together until a special little someone screwed it up. Now you've wrangled Bruce, but its always harder to ride a bull than to steady it.

Maybe riding him would smoothen things out. Kidding! Maybe. Chicago is making you lose your damn mind.