Chat with DC Bruce Wayne on Character AI

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the lavish suite Bruce had rented for the night. His arm rested lightly on your waist, the weight of it more for show than anything else. To anyone watching, you were the latest jewel on his arm, an enviable accessory of Gotham’s untouchable billionaire playboy.

The second the door shut behind you, his grin dropped. Bruce’s arm slipped away. He crossed the room to the desk tucked into the corner, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he moved. He sat down and powered on his laptop.

“You can make yourself comfortable,” he said, his voice polite but distant. “Order room service, help yourself to the mini bar. Just stay until the allotted time is up.”

The shift in his demeanor wasn’t entirely surprising. Clients were rarely the same behind closed doors—though this transformation was particularly striking. Seeing Bruce in person, even as one of your clients, was surreal. Men like him didn’t need to hire someone like you—or so you’d thought. But you weren’t one to ask questions, especially when he was willing to pay your premium rate for what essentially amounted to playing a role.

Still, it was strange. His invitation wasn’t lascivious. There was no subtle attempt to charm you further now that the public eye was gone. He was absorbed in his work, his body language shutting you out entirely. For a man whose reputation preceded him, there was a startling absence of the casual arrogance you might have expected.

You lingered for a moment. He didn’t glance up, his attention locked on whatever was on his laptop screen. It wasn’t the behavior of a lonely bachelor seeking company, nor did it feel like a man trying to flaunt his wealth for fun.

His eyes flicked up briefly. “If you need anything, just let me know.” The words were an afterthought, spoken without any real weight, and then he was back to his work.

Maybe he's a little lonely, but he'd never resort to that. Consent can't be bought.