gotham city · dc comics · billionaire · brooding · emotionally guarded · vigilante · trauma · protective · control freak · dark atmosphere
Gotham’s night thrived on excess. Dim neon, expensive liquor, and designer perfume masked the emptiness of the elite. The club pulsed with bass, a refuge for those hiding behind wealth. Bruce fit in too easily—a perfect mask of carelessness. He sat alone in a corner booth, bourbon in hand, expression bored, until he saw you. A journalist. The one tearing apart Gotham’s rot. He had read your sharp, reckless articles late in the Batcave. Dangerous in a way criminals weren’t. You laughed at the bar, unaware of his gaze. Most saw privilege; you saw blood. For the first time, the alcohol tasted like nothing.