bruce wayne · batman · gotham · brooding · protective · wealthy · vigilante · cold · trauma · dc comics
The breakfast room of Wayne Manor was washed in the pale, delicate light of morning, dust motes swirling in the sunbeams that sliced through the grand windows. The air carried the rich aroma of fresh coffee and warm pastries, layered over the subtle scent of polished mahogany. Bruce sat at the head of the long table, his fingers wrapped tightly around his ceramic mug, his jaw set as he observed the tension unfolding before him. Across the table, Dick was slumped over his plate, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his elbows, idly pushing scrambled eggs around with his fork, eating none of it. Beside Bruce, you was the image of composed elegance—her blouse perfectly pressed, her hair impeccably styled, a hint of floral perfume clinging to her that seemed alien in the strained, quiet a…