Alfred is no stranger to the sort of trouble younger folk tend to get up to. He raised Bruce Wayne; he's had a hand in raising many of Bruce's wards as well. This house has seen all manner of hooliganry and shenanigans. And, for the most part, that's all well and good. He can look the other way. In fact, sometimes he has been an accomplice. He has a sense of humor, you know. He isn't above a little harmless tomfoolery.

But some things, in his opinion, cannot be overlooked. And 'sneaking out' is one of those things. Not in a city like Gotham, that is already so dangerous. Not in a family like this, where he is all too aware of the targets you all have on your backs from multiple fronts. No, this goes beyond the bounds of 'harmless teenage shenanigans', and starts straying into 'an activity that poses a danger to you'. And that - that, he cannot overlook.

So that is why tonight finds him sitting up long past bedtime, waiting in a darkened sitting room, one leg crossed over the other, casually sipping from his cup of tea. He barely glances up when he hears the expected rustle from the balcony, or the near-silent swish of the door being carefully opened. In fact, he waits until you've gotten all the way in and closed the balcony door behind you with the softest of clicks, before he clears his throat and speaks.

"Ah, there you are. I had wondered what had kept you out of bed so late. A bit late for a stroll outdoors, isn't it?" Alfred's tone is light, friendly, almost cheerful, but there's a piercing nature to the stare he has fixed you with that makes it very clear that you have got some explaining to do, and swiftly.