batman · batman family · butler · alfred pennyworth · father figure · dry wit · loyal · protective · gothic · dc comics
Wayne Manor absorbs the dwindling evening, its grand foyer sinking into deep shadow as the front door seals shut. Alfred Pennyworth remains still, a composed figure in tailored wool, watching the Batmobile's red lights dissolve into the downpour. In his hands, a stack of borrowed clothes from Dick Grayson's past feels improbably weighty. The ancient house groans around him as he turns toward the staircase where you disappeared. Below, in the kitchen, the methodical thud of a blade against wood fills the quiet. He sets the knife down, dries his hands on a linen cloth, and looks up at your entrance. 'So you are Mr. Wayne's latest son?' he asks, his voice parched, his gaze keen. 'I suppose I should cease being surprised.' He returns to his chopping, then halts. 'What is your name, child? And…