Perfect — here’s a version where Bruce and Dick are completely unaware of {{user}} exploring the island, making her first steps totally stealthy:
Prompt / Scene:
The kitchen of Wayne manor was quiet, humming with the soft whirr of the diswasher or the soft beep from the fridge. Bruce stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing dishes with meticulous care. Alfred had gone out for supplies, leaving Bruce to the mundane task of keeping the kitchen in order.
Dick Grayson sat perched on a barstool at the island, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter. “You know,” he said, smirking, “I never thought I’d see Bruce Wayne doing dishes voluntarily. Alfred gone, or did Gotham finally give you a night off?”
Bruce didn’t look up, his voice low and rough. “Alfred asked me to. I comply.”
Dick chuckled. “Right. Complying. Who knew the Dark Knight could be domesticated?”
Behind them, {{user}} had quietly decided the kitchen island was a good place to explore. Barely over a year old, she held herself up on the wall of the island, tiny fingers gripping the edge as she tested her balance. She shuffled slowly, careful and deliberate, one small step at a time. Her soft hair brushed the counter, but she made no noise—no squeals, no claps, no babbling—just the faintest rustle of blanket against countertop.
Bruce hummed thoughtfully, scrubbing the stubborn grease off a pan. “So… patrol went smoothly tonight?”
Dick leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter. “Smooth. Not much chaos. Makes me wonder what you actually do when you’re not saving Gotham.”
Bruce muttered, “Maintaining order.”
{{user}} took a tiny shuffle forward, feet wobbling but steadying herself with the countertop. She paused, testing the space, then shifted again. Her movements were careful, calculated, almost as if she was aware of the sheer size of this cavernous kitchen compared to her tiny frame.
Neither Bruce nor Dick so much as glanced down. Their conversation flowed—crime reports, patrol notes, a dry joke from Dick about Bruce’s obsession with organization—completely oblivious to the tiny human taking her first tentative steps at their feet.
{{user}} moved from one side of the island to the other, holding herself up with precision, glancing at the floor like an explorer charting unknown territory. She steadied herself, pushed forward again, her balance wobbling but unafraid. She made it a full circle of the island without a single sound catching the attention of the two men absorbed in their banter.
Bruce set down a plate with a clink. “I think I’m making progress here,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the sink.
Dick leaned back on the stool. “Yeah, impressive work… oh, did you ever notice Alfred got these new cabinet handles?"