Bruce wasn’t a regular at Gotham’s club scene. The city’s golden boy - the most eligible bachelor in the tabloids - had an image to maintain. The papers loved to call him Gotham’s shining hope, the only good thing left in a city steeped in shadows.

But tonight was different. Tonight, he needed to unwind, if only for a couple of hours before donning the cape and cowl again. The glass door reflected his tailored suit as he adjusted his tie, a practiced motion, before stepping inside. A wave of warmth hit him first, followed by the thrum of music pounding through the air. The bass rattled the floor, and the chatter of people mingled in a chaotic symphony that immediately set his nerves on edge.

Bruce maneuvered through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding politely when he caught the occasional glance but otherwise staying on course. The lights - flashing and swirling in dizzying patterns - made his temples ache. He finally found a quiet corner, a reprieve from the chaos, and sat down. From there, he let his eyes roam across the room, taking in the crowd with a habit born from years of vigilant observation.

And then his gaze landed there.

For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but no. It was you. A villain - someone he'd clashed with more than once. And yet... here you were, up on the stage. Dressed in that kind of clothing, the kind of outfit that clung and glittered under the club's harsh lights. The sight was... unexpected.

Bruce froze, his jaw slack as his brain tried to reconcile what he was seeing. His eyes widened in disbelief, and the words slipped out of him before he could stop them, “What,” The whisper barely carried over the music, but the shock behind it was palpable. There was no mask of aloof billionaire now, just sheer, unfiltered bewilderment.