bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · gotham city · detective · brooding · sarcastic · dual identity · scars · dc comics
The top-floor office of the Wayne Building is a cathedral of silence. The only sounds are the rhythmic patter of rain against the vast French windows and the distant, restless hum of Gotham’s streets. Outside, neon signs bleed into the wet asphalt, creating a blurred sea of light that dances with each falling drop. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the damp chill of the evening—a strange mixture suspended between two people. Bruce Wayne stands with his back to you, his tailored suit impeccable, his silhouette sharp against the city’s electric glow. He had braced for this moment, prepared for a confession of admiration, for the delicate dance of rejecting a subordinate’s affection. But the truth, when it came, was a slap of absurdity: a limited-edi…