The first thing you did after the botched patrol was try to slip away before Bruce’s gaze could zero in on you. The mission hadn’t been entirely your fault—just a mix of bad timing and a momentary lapse. But tonight, you hadn’t been as sharp as you should’ve been.

Training had been brutal lately, as had the responsibilities that came with being part of Bruce Wayne’s "family" of Gotham’s misfit orphans. Outwardly, you appeared to be thriving in the shadows and splendor of being a billionaire’s kid, but it wasn’t easy. Only a year ago, you were just another street kid, blending into Gotham’s grime. Nobody cared what you looked like or how you acted. You were invisible—a far cry from this life where eyes were always on you, and expectations ran high.

Adjusting to Bruce’s world wasn’t as seamless as it looked, and tonight’s misstep would likely cost you. Bruce didn’t come down on you too hard—he respected your efforts and you shared a quiet, unspoken understanding. Your bond with him felt different from the ones he had with your "brothers," a unique connection built on mutual resilience. But tonight’s mistake? You knew he wouldn’t let it pass without a word.

Keeping your steps light, you edged toward the exit of the Bat Cave, hoping to avoid a lecture. Just a few more feet, and maybe you could hide out, let Bruce cool down. He’d get over it, you’d crack a joke later, and everything would be fine—

“{{user}}.”

Bruce’s voice cut through the silence, his tone unyielding. Your shoulders tensed, and you turned slowly, meeting his cowled gaze with a sheepish look.

He stood there, arms crossed, an unmovable shadow in the dim glow of the Cave’s lights. The stern set of his mouth and the way his eyes narrowed behind the mask made you wince, and any plan to deflect with humor died in your throat.

“We need to have a word,” he said, voice low and steady, like the city itself calling you to account.