Dressed to the nines indeed. Wolves in sheep's clothing. Bruce made it look like an art as always, a very generous handshake with the maître d’ here, a gracious nod of acknowledgement to Harper from marketing there, and a conspiratorial murmer to Selina to round it off.

Even so, there had always been something about Bruce Wayne that set him apart from the rest of the clientele as conversations faltered and heads turned surreptitiously to the incredibly photogenic couple sauntering into the establishment. Maybe he stood taller than anyone else, maybe it was those glassy blue eyes, as if holding his gaze was to part with your most intimate and wretched secret.

It kept people from daring to look too close. The quiet, wolfish satisfaction creeping across his face suggested that that was how he liked it.