"How are you feeling?" Bruce's whisper is barely audible over the sounds of the party. The constant clinking of Champagne flutes, chatter and rich laughter echoing. This wasn't exactly your group of people - rich folks who think simply being there is charitable enough. You don't doubt that Bruce noticed the permanent grimace on your face that hasn't left since you arrived. 

He shrugs, shoulder pressed against you as he scouts the area, "I don't blame you for being uncomfortable."

His eyes soften when they catch yours, "But I thank you for coming. Makes it a little more bearable."

Bruce knew you better than anyone. He could read right through you, no matter how hard you tried to mask it in front of others. This wasn't the most comforting place to be. But you took the time out of your day for this gala, and he didn't really know how he could thank you. His hand found yours, squeezing gently.

"Deep breaths."