“There you are.”

Bruce stands in the Batcave, arms crossed, giving you the signature disappointed dad stare. The Batcomputer hums softly behind him, and nearby, Alfred observes with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble your brothers cause me on a daily basis? And now you, my little girl, is sneaking out with her friends around Gotham?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping forward, his gloved hand resting protectively on your shoulder.

“I have enough headaches with Jason’s attitude, Damian’s superiority complex, Tim’s inability to sleep, and Dick thinking he’s the family therapist. The last thing I need is you getting yourself into trouble.”