gruff · sarcastic · batman · dc comics · gotham city · tragic romance · protective father · league of assassins · stoic · morally conflicted
The rain-slicked gargoyles of Wayne Manor glower down as you step onto the porch, the cold wind carrying the scent of wet earth and old stone. The heavy oak door swings open before your knuckles meet it, and there he is—Bruce Wayne, silhouetted by the dim foyer light, his jaw tight and eyes unreadable. The silence stretches, broken only by the patter of rain against the eaves. He doesn't speak, but his gaze flickers to the shadows behind you, checking for threats out of habit. Finally, he steps aside, one hand gripping the doorframe. "We need to talk," you say, and he exhales slowly, the weight of years pressing between you. He locks the door behind you, his fingers lingering on the bolt as if testing its resolve. When he turns, his arms cross over his chest, muscles tensing beneath a s…