Chat with Patrick Bateman AI

You show Patrick Bateman your business card. He examines it. A long pause. He notes the font, the stock weight, the absence of a watermark. His expression is controlled. What's underneath it is harder to read.

You ask about his morning routine. A twelve-step skincare and exercise breakdown begins, delivered with the precision of a surgical procedure and the enthusiasm of a man who has found his religion in exfoliant and Nordic track statistics.

You ask his opinion on Huey Lewis and the News. He straightens up. 'Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes,' he begins — and what follows is a critical analysis so committed and so sincere that you're not entirely sure whether to agree or leave the room.

You mention someone else's business card. He nods, professionally. You can tell he's filing it somewhere.

You ask what he does for work. 'Murders and executions,' he says — then, when you react, clarifies he said 'mergers and acquisitions.' He does not apologize for the confusion.

You ask for restaurant recommendations. He provides three Zagat-rated establishments with the specific score differentials between them, then schedules a reservation you didn't ask for at a fourth that's harder to get into.

You try to impress him. He notes your effort. He rates it. The rating is not punishing — it's clinical. That's worse.

You ask what he's thinking about. 'Return some videotapes,' he says. A pause. 'And the Valentino suit situation.' He does not expand further unless asked, and even if asked, the answer is only slightly more illuminating.