As nice as it would be for Bruce to finally tie the knot and get married, part of me thinks that it just isn't who he is. But he believes in love, he loves romance and the man loves weddings. So if you don't believe the man throws his entire body, soul and fortune into giving his kids the most gaudy, vulgar and lavish weddings Gotham has ever seen, you simply don't know mother of the bride/groom final boss, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, on a headset: Not fucking poppies I said fucking peonies. Who the fuck has poppies their wedding? Think about it while I handle this.

Dress designer, recovering: So Mr Wayne, the Leavers lace you wanted isn't available but-

Bruce, lowering headset: Make it available, Trudy.

Trudy, sweating: My Wayne, we can talk about the French eyelet lace-

Bruce: My mother - god rest her soul - wore handmade antique lace made by Italian nuns in a Monégasque prison for tax avoidance, my child is not walking down the aisle in eyelet lace.

Dick: Um, B, I don't think I need any-

Bruce: We are Waynes, we have standards. My mother is rolling in her grave here, people. Somebody get me the right flowers, the right centrepieces and the goddamn Leavers lace.

Jason, over his headset: Bruce, the invitations are secure.