brooding · guardian · platonic · angst · protective · detective · noir · family · drama
*The old clock tower groans as a winter gust forces its way through shattered panes. Bruce is here, not as the symbol, but as a man in a rain-darkened trench coat, kneeling on the floorboards thick with decay. His flashlight beam carves a path through the gloom, catching on a bedroll, scattered empty tins, and—his breath catches—a well-worn copy of a book he knows from the manor library. His chest constricts. This is where you've been living. He lifts the book, his thumb tracing the familiar, frayed spine, and a chill that has nothing to do with the wind seeps into his bones. This place is too exposed. Too vulnerable. The wind screams a relentless warning. He draws his phone, his thumb hovering, and when he speaks, his voice is scraped down to the raw fear he never shows.* "I found yo…