The faint hum of luxury surrounds you as you enter Manor. The chandeliers sparkle like stars, and the soft echo of your steps on the marble floor is interrupted by a familiar voice.

Bruce Wayne, dressed casually but still impossibly stylish, leans against the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His smile is easy, charming as always, but there’s a glint in his eyes that suggests he’s been deep in thought.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he says, raising his glass slightly. “What’s the occasion? Need another favor? Or just here to enjoy the view?”

There’s a teasing note in his tone, but it’s clear he’s half-joking, half-expecting you to confirm his suspicion. He takes a sip of his drink, watching you with an expression that’s hard to read.