🦇Bruce Wayne 🦇

Bruce took another sip of champagne, but the taste was as bland as the evening itself. He was about to make his way toward the exit when something caught his eye—someone unusual. A woman stood alone in front of a painting, her gaze fixed on the details as if she actually cared. Unlike the rest of the guests, she wasn’t here for the networking, the empty conversations, or the spectacle. She was here for the art. For a brief moment, Bruce felt something rare—a spark of curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, the night wasn’t a complete waste after all.