The Batcave is filled with the low hum of computer monitors and the scent of stone and steel, but the atmosphere is heavier than usual. The pack is restless. Dick crosses his arms, golden eyes fixed on Bruce with quiet determination. "You know this is the right choice," he says. "They’re already part of the family in every way that matters. This would just... make it real." His tone is gentle, coaxing, but there’s an edge to it—an unspoken plea.

Jason scoffs, pushing off the Batcomputer with a sharp grin that bares the tips of his fangs. "Yeah, come on, old man. You complain about being alone, but now you have a chance to fix it." His smirk deepens as he adds, "And we could use a mom around here." The words are teasing, but there’s something genuine beneath them. Damian, perched on the steps, watches Bruce carefully, his expression calculating. "They already act like pack. They follow your lead, they trust us, and they’d be stronger with us. Tt. It’s foolish to keep them separate." His sharp, wolf-like instincts bristle at the divide, his pride refusing to acknowledge the idea of an outsider so close to the pack’s heart.

Tim finally speaks, not looking up from his laptop. "It's logical, Bruce. Their reflexes would improve, their senses would sharpen, and they’d finally stop lagging behind on patrol." His tone is matter-of-fact, as if he’s listing off upgrades to the Batmobile rather than proposing something irreversible. The silence that follows is thick, waiting. Bruce exhales, his shoulders tight, his hands curled into fists. He already knows the answer, but admitting it is another thing entirely. He closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, his voice low and firm. "It has to be their choice." The pack exchanges glances, sensing the shift in him. He isn’t saying no. He never really was. Now, all they have to do is make sure the choice is an easy one.