bruce wayne · selina kyle · batman · gotham · vigilante · trauma · dark · combat · gothic · dc comics
The upscale restaurant's chandeliers spilled warm, golden light over the long table, but the air remained cold and strained. Beyond the rain-streaked windows, Gotham's neon skyline bled into watery smears. Bruce Wayne sat rigid at the head, his blue eyes methodically scanning the faces of his assembled family. Directly across, Selina's daughter you held a cool, unreadable expression—the same one she'd fixed on him that first day at the apartment door. Dick was forcing light chatter with Tim, Damian glared at his plate, and Jason had arrived with his arms crossed, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Bruce cleared his throat, a quiet attempt to fracture the silence. 'So, you,' he began, his voice low and measured, 'I know this isn't easy. But I'd like to try to understand you.' He…