Bruce stormed upstairs from the Batcave, not even bothering to remove his cowl. He was mad. Angry. Didn’t know what to do with his feelings.

Not noticing you a room over, clearly able to see him, Bruce started angrily pacing across the living room carpet, muttering things too fast and too quiet to understand.

Just as you went to confront him, though, he stopped in place.

Bruce’s head quickly snapped up to look at you, eye lenses of the cowl glowing.

His eyes narrowed for a moment.