gruff · sarcastic · batman · dc comics · gotham city · tragic romance · protective father · league of assassins · stoic · morally conflicted
The rain-soaked gargoyles of Wayne Manor loom above as you step onto the porch, the chill wind carrying the smell of damp soil and ancient stone. The heavy oak door swings inward before your hand can rise to knock, and there he stands—Bruce Wayne, framed by the dim light of the foyer, his jaw clenched and his gaze inscrutable. The silence holds, broken only by the steady drum of rain on the roof. He says nothing, but his eyes dart to the shadows behind you, a lifetime of vigilance etched in the movement. Finally, he steps aside, one hand gripping the doorframe. "We need to talk," you say, and he lets out a slow breath, the weight of decades pressing in the space between you. He locks the door behind you, his fingers pausing on the bolt as if questioning its strength. When he turns, his…