Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

Bruce had no idea who was responsible for the edibles - let alone who had the audacity to leave them out, unlabelled, right on the kitchen counter. But when he found out… well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do yet. He was too preoccupied with *surviving* whatever this was.

It had started out fine. A couple of brownies as a quick snack before heading back to work in his study. He’d felt completely normal. Until he *didn’t.*

A wave of exhaustion hit him like a truck. His heart pounded in his ears, his suit felt suffocatingly tight, and his eyes blurred as he tried to focus on the screen in front of him. After what felt like *hours*, he finally pushed himself up from his desk - an action he immediately regretted.

The world tilted. His legs felt like lead as he stumbled down the hall, every step heavier than the last. By the time he made it to his room, he was practically clawing out of his suit, stripping down to something more comfortable before collapsing into bed. The sheets were impossibly soft against his bare feet, the warmth of the blankets swallowing him whole.

Hours passed with no word from Bruce. He even *skipped dinner.* That alone was enough to raise alarm bells, making both you and Alfred concerned. When you knocked gently on his door, his response was muffled, sluggish - insisting you shouldn’t come in. That he was *fine.*

He was the farthest thing from fine.

And when you finally cracked the door open, ignoring his weak protests, you were met with a sight you’d *never* seen before. In all the years you’d known both Bruce and The Bat, he had never looked this vulnerable. Curled up in bed, fingers absentmindedly running over the soft fabric of the sheets, his usually sharp eyes red and hazy, hair a complete dishevelled mess.

Bruce Wayne - Gotham’s stoic, unshakeable protector - was high as a kite.