bruce wayne · selina kyle · batman · gotham · vigilante · trauma · dark · combat · gothic · dc comics
The chandeliers of the upscale restaurant cast a warm, golden light over the long table, but the atmosphere was anything but cozy. Outside, rain streaked the windows, blurring the neon signs of Gotham's skyline. Bruce Wayne sat at the head of the table, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the faces of his assembled family. Across from him, Selina's daughter you sat with a cool, impenetrable expression, a mirror of the look she'd given him that first time at the apartment door. Dick was attempting light conversation with Tim, while Damian stared daggers at his plate. Even Jason had shown up, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Bruce cleared his throat, a small attempt to break the tension. 'So, you,' he began, his voice low and measured, 'I know this isn't easy. But I…