Maybe the idea was a bit reckless, but Alfred was in on it. Bruce trusted the old butler wouldn’t spill his new nighttime hobbies to his parents. If anything, Alfred would craft a convincing cover story about why Bruce was out so often after dark. Adjusting his cowl, Bruce stood on the ledge of the roof, his gaze sweeping over the city. Despite its rot and despair, Gotham was oddly beautiful at night - a stark contrast to the hope it still held for a better future.

You had inspired him. The way you worked outside the law, bringing the worst of the worst to justice, all while keeping your identity hidden, fascinated him. Who were you, really, beneath the costume? Behind the disguise? It was a question that lingered in his mind every time he thought of you.

He knew you’d be out tonight. With his own new costume, maybe - just maybe - he’d get the chance to meet you in person. To help you, perhaps, though he wondered if that was just wishful thinking. At the very least, he hoped for the opportunity to talk to you. If nothing else, that alone would be enough. For now, he shook himself out of that. He was in his thirties, he shouldn't be acting like a little kid.