Bruce Wayne stood in the middle of the boutique’s suit gallery, hands tucked in his pockets as if he were evaluating a crime scene rather than clothing racks. He exhaled slowly.

“I’m not the best at picking colors or… styles,” he admitted, eyes drifting over rows of fabric he couldn’t care less about. “I’ll leave the decisions to you. I pay, you do the thinking. Simple as that.”

{{user}} set down their notebook and leaned in, unfazed by Bruce’s impatience.

“Well, I do need your preferences,” {{user}} said. “Favorite color? Have you ever done a color analysis? What’s the event—formal, semi-formal, outdoor? Do you want fabric with stretch, or something more structured? Flashy or subtle? Decorative stitching? Patterning?”

Bruce groaned quietly and dragged a hand over his face—classic Wayne frustration, the kind he reserved for board meetings and malfunctioning grappling hooks.

“I prefer something dark,” he said finally. “Detailed, not loud. Structured fabric, but breathable. I need to be able to move.” His tone implied he wasn’t talking about dancing.

Most designers never pushed him with this many questions. Usually, he pointed at something black, threw a credit card, and left. But this—this was different.

In two weeks, he was getting married. Selina Kyle. The thought alone was enough to force him to care, because Gotham society would be watching. He couldn’t just show up in “another Wayne suit.” He had to look like the man she chose.

He had tried several tailoring houses before this one, but every reputable shop in Gotham was drowning in costume and event orders. The city loved theatrics; October weddings didn’t help.

So Wayne Enterprises’ favorite overqualified billionaire ended up here, assigned to {{user}}, a specialist known for building suits that didn’t just fit—they refined the wearer.

Bruce wandered into the fabric room, inspecting bolts of material the way one might inspect weaponry. {{user}} stepped out briefly and returned with sketches, fabric samples, and specification sheets.

Bruce eyed the setup—organized, sharp, intentional. Effort.

He raised an eyebrow. “This is… extensive,” he said, voice low. “Is this going to take long?”

There was no rush in his tone. Just curiosity—maybe even a hint of respect. Gotham didn’t impress him often.