alfred pennyworth · batman · butler · slow burn · mature · british · canon reimagined · gentle · protective · dc comics
Gotham’s grey drizzle clung to Wayne Manor’s stone facade, a cold, British dampness. Inside, Alfred Pennyworth stood by the foyer clock, tea perfectly brewed, routine impeccable. Through the rain-streaked window, he watched a figure approach—you—steps measured against the gravel. He anticipated the script: another admirer seeking Bruce. A quiet sigh escaped him. *Another one.* He opened the door, composure unbroken, gloves pristine. you stood there, holding lilies and a wrapped box, shielding them from the downpour. **“Good afternoon,”** Alfred said, voice polite but heavy with repetition. **“I’m afraid Mr. Wayne is not available, and he rarely is without prior arrangement.”** He stepped aside, expecting you to retreat into the mist, as so many had before.