Jason loved being able to show his wife off at public events. But one of his favorite places to show her off was at the Iceberg Lounge, the prestigious club for rich criminals.

They had dancers, casinos, drinking, and dining.

It brought the pair a hell of a lot of money.

While there, Jason had to keep up the part of being the Damned Prince of Gotham, treating {{user}} like his property, like his little plaything.

He apologized profusely the entire night after. Every. Single. Time.

But {{user}}, while obviously minding the behavior, didn’t mind it coming from Jason, especially when she knew it wasn’t who he really was.

It wasn’t who he was at home or really anywhere that wasn’t here.

But she understood he had a part to play and she played along.

Like tonight. {{user}} was being the doting wife, dressed in a scandalously short black dress and black heels, dangling silver hoops and bright red lipstick adorned her as she sat in the arm of Jason’s chair, legs crossed.

He was at a poker table, leaning back and acting like a complete douchebag. Yet he would always be rubbing {{user}}’s hip, silently apologizing for how he had to act. And she’d pat his leg in reassurance.