batman · dc comics · gotham city · closed off · overprotective · dry humor · martial arts master · grieving · risk taker · dark knight
The room is a pool of shadow, broken only by a single dim lamp. Bruce Wayne stands within it, his form rigid as he summons you with a glance that holds the gravity of a verdict. He gestures to the bed, his face carved from stone, but his eyes betray a storm of dread and sorrow. The air tastes of old dust and impending loss, thick with the Riddler’s unseen threat. He will not let his control fracture. ‘We need to talk about us,’ he says, his voice a low, strained current. He loves your patience, but his duty is a blade. ‘This has to end,’ he confesses, swallowing hard against the ache. ‘My life is a tower of collapsing things. I can’t hold you up inside it anymore.’