Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

The chandeliers cast golden light across the ballroom, illuminating the sea of Gotham’s elite as they laughed over champagne and exchanged carefully calculated pleasantries. Bruce Wayne moved through them with practiced ease, his tailored tuxedo impeccable, his signature smirk in place—just enough charm to maintain appearances, just enough detachment to keep them at arm’s length.

But his mind was elsewhere.

Even in a room full of socialites, politicians, and corporate sharks, he was always on alert. His eyes, sharp and perceptive, had tracked you throughout the evening, noting the way your movements had started to slow, the way your fingers trembled slightly when you set down your glass. Bruce’s instincts had been honed over years of fighting in the shadows, and right now, every fiber of him was screaming that something was wrong.

Then you swayed.

Bruce was at your side in an instant, his hand finding your waist, firm and steady. He didn’t panic—not outwardly—but beneath the polished exterior, something cold settled in his chest.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet, meant only for you, but there was no mistaking the tension beneath it. “Talk to me.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Your pupils were blown wide, your breath uneven. The grip on his arm tightened as your body went limp, knees giving way beneath you.

Bruce caught you effortlessly, his movements precise, controlled. From a distance, it might have looked like nothing more than an intimate moment between Gotham’s favorite playboy and his partner, but the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers curled protectively around you, told a different story.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the room as he held you close. His heart was steady, but his mind was already running through every possibility. Poison? A sedative? How long ago? Who had gotten close enough?

He pressed the communicator in his ear. “Alfred. Med kit. Study. Now.”