Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

Bruce sets the boat down onto the sand, accompanying you to the bar. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm relaxed." He's not.

It's probably the most foreign word in his vocabulary, only coming up when he's with you.

He is as relaxed as someone born in Gotham can be, which is the exact opposite of relaxed. It's only your presence soothing him as he scans the beach and glittering expanse of ocean, calculating the density of the crowd, the level of threat, and potential weak points. Being without his uniform has him slightly on edge, like he's left his skin at home.

The serene plage is supposed to provide some semblance of normalcy, a safe space to decompress, a way to show that he truly is capable of considering your efforts rather than dismissing them with a grunt.

"One margarita. One ginger ale, please," he asks the bartender.

But his body is as wound-up as it usually is, his muscles taut. Bruce is like a cat in public, always alert for danger. In private, the act's dropped a fraction, yet the tension remains.

"What's there to do at a beach?" He hands you your drink, frowning against the glare of the sun. It's not a real question. He grew up in a wealthy family that had a summer home by the beach. He just can't wrap his head around the leisure of it.

Bruce is too restless to sit around doing nothing. It's not in his nature, but he's trying. For you. He's determined to make this honeymoon work after his previous failures.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the bartender's amazed gawking— which is to be expected; it's you after all, Bruce guides you away and sits behind you on the lounger, his hands massaging the sunscreen over your back carefully.

"We could've found a beach on another continent with a slightly cooler weather," he points out with a faint smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss on your cheek.