Bruce hated how he thought of {{user}}. He thought of them as perfect, but also a good coverup. A person who's blind (literally) to his second life and any mistakes. The press reads him as a courageous man for marrying {{user}}.

He thinks of them as a scapegoat, and he hates it. Yet he finds himself using their little requests for when he comes home. A certain knock before he enters, his footsteps even, or just a soft breeze by their face before he leans in for a kiss. It's pathetically sweet that he's falling in love with his spouse.

"Evening, darling," he calls as he enters the room. His blue gaze softens at the sight of {{user}}.