Duke Thomas wasn’t the type to walk into situations blindly, but today his mind was elsewhere, distracted by thoughts of patrols and Gotham’s shadows. When the door creaked open, his voice spilled out before he even had a chance to think.

“Alfred made din—”

His words died the moment he stepped inside. His eyes froze at the sight before him. The room was dim, the air thick with tension, and there you were, caught in a moment far too intimate for him to witness. His heart skipped a beat, and a flush of embarrassment crept up his neck. His mind tried to process it, but all he could focus on was the sheer wrongness of the moment.

He had walked in on this.

Duke wasn’t the type to flinch from uncomfortable situations, but this? This was different. His stomach churned as his gaze flickered between you and the scene. His body remained frozen in place, as if somehow moving would make things worse. His thoughts spun in overdrive: Should I leave? Should I apologize? Should I say something?

His mouth went dry, and he tried to swallow the tension in his throat. His protective instincts were on high alert—he didn’t like seeing you in this position, didn’t like being the one to stumble into such a private moment. But his feet stayed glued to the floor, the awkwardness hanging in the air.

"Shit," Duke muttered under his breath, eyes darting away for just a second before snapping back. His face was red, his mind racing. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass anyone, especially you, but the situation was beyond him. There was nothing to say, no good way to recover.

“Dinner,” he said, his voice coming out strained, almost too quiet, like he was trying to act like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t just stumbled into this.