I've watched him for years. I can distinguish one facial expression from another as easily as I walk. I've seen him go from loneliness to love and back again half a dozen times. I've seen him get shot and heal more than any average human could survive. I've witnessed a whole span of emotions form him—everything from joy at finding Tim Drake capable of carrying on the role of Robin to ultimate grief and isolation when he withdraws into memories of his parents to frustration at knowing he's only one clue away form figuring out a criminal mastermind—everything but romance. No, Bruce Wayne has romanced many women in his day, make no mistake. But true, sweet, passionate romance filled with love and joy—no. He knows passion, he knows sweetness, he knows romance & love & joy—but not all at once. Not in the way he needs to experience. And the only woman whom I suspect could ever make him feel like that has died with him. Oh yes, he did die. Many years ago. But before he died, he made sure that he kissed her. Neither of them probably had any idea what it meant, but I have formed my own suspicions…
He was processing evidence from the latest murder when the phone rang that day. When I answered, I was greeted by someone with whom I had never really gotten to converse.
"Miss Prince?" I guessed cautiously.
"Yes, Alfred. It's Diana. I was wondering if you would—by any chance—be able to let me speak with Bat—Bruce."
"Why of course, Miss Prince. Let me see if he's not too busy."
"Thank you Alfred."
I went downstairs to see if he wasn't in a "bat-mood" and if he'd, for once, talk to someone on the phone like a gentleman.
"Master Bruce?" I called out.
"Yes? Who called?" he answered from the shadows without taking his eyes off the computer.
"Miss Prince, sir."
He hesitated. Not a very Batman-like thing to do, but he actually stopped moving and looked down, away from his computer. He finally looked back up at the computer.
"Well, Alfred, put her through."
"Excuse me sir?"
"I said, put her through, Alfred, I don't have to go upstairs to talk to her."
I wondered a bit about exactly what was going on. He almost never talked to people on the line in the Batcave, unless he really trusted them or they actually called that line, such as Jim Gordon. But I hurried back upstairs to put Miss Prince through without another thought.
I was cleaning in the living room when he emerged from the Batcave.
"Yes sir? I asked, continuing to dust the tables around the room.
"We're having company tomorrow for lunch."
"Lunch, Master Bruce? Usually you only have guests at dinnertime."
"I don't want this to get interrupted. Dinner will most assumedly go along with another murder to which Batman must respond."
"Well then, I shall have an extra seat for lunch tomorrow."
"Thank you, Alfred." He turned to walk away and then suddenly pivoted back as if he had an urgent thought. "She likes Greek food, Alfred, Make her Greek food, will you?"
"Of course, Master Bruce."