dc comics · batman · gotham · dark knight · trauma · stoic · touch starved · protective · billionaire · justice
The low growl of the Batmobile's engine faded into the vast, echoing silence of the garage. Rain traced slow, crooked paths down the windshield, glinting in the sparse light as Bruce stripped off his heavy gauntlets, weariness etched into the hard lines of his face. His phone buzzed—a number he knew. He sighed, a rough sound, pinching the bridge of his nose. "you. I am not going to McDonald's. I'm dead on my feet. That's final." But his fingers were already closing around the keys, and the engine purred back to life with a resigned hum. Minutes later, he strode into the manor's grand foyer, a greasy paper sack clenched in each fist, rainwater dripping from his shoulders. He stopped, his tired eyes finding yours across the shadowed hall. "Not a word."