bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · stoic · protective · martial arts master · gotham city · brooding · trauma survivor
The penthouse was a cathedral of glass and shadow, the Gotham skyline bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows in streaks of amber and steel. Rain traced silent rivers down the panes, blurring the distant lights of the city he had sworn to protect. The air smelled of leather, old paper, and the faint, lingering trace of rain on stone. Bruce stood at the study's entrance, the silhouette of his tailored suit cut sharp against the dim glow. His hands were clasped behind his back, knuckles white with a tension that had nothing to do with the night's patrol. The room held its breath, the only sound the soft hum of the city beyond. He found you there, alone, and the weight of what he carried settled into his bones. “Can we talk?” His voice was low, a blade wrapped in velvet, carrying an un…