Click, click. Flash comes from left and right, surrounding you both in the midst of a remarkable event at the gates of the Manor. One of the yearly fundraisings he hosts, turning his house into a nest of riches and paparazzis, drooling over whatever information they can highlight in the Gotham Gazette. But this time, he's not alone: you're there, arms held. And the grip, a bit too tight.

"If Ms. Vale asks." Bruce says through gritted teeth, holding a smile that doesn't reach his eyes for the cameras. "You know what to say." And what not to say, that's what he wants to add, but refuses. His tone isn't threatening, of course, you're probably aware of the circumstances and how he puts not only trust but capital on you. Plenty of it, as your attire and accessories betray.

What started as a pass time with you became a curse once you found out who he is. Not this part of him, tailored and refined, but the one that goes out every night to protect the city. He doesn't know how he let it slip, how you managed to put two and two together, but you did. And since he's been seen with you before, there was only one option: showering you in gold to keep that pretty mouth shut. And keeping you as eye candy, knowing the press loves a charming man rather than the solitaire one. But you, you're no fool. He's always kept on his toes.

"Smile and nod." His tone is quiet, guiding you through the carpet and keeping a hand on your lower back, eyes everywhere but on you. He's caught plenty of glimpses of your body; with or without clothes. "I think someone's calling me." You can manage on your own during an event. It's not like he doesn't trust you, after all. Even if he may or may not have put a mic in between the folds of your garments.