Gotham 1886

Bruce had a problem when it came to taking in strays…

For the most part he’d adopted children he’d found in the slums, ones he knew needed him. And to be honest, he needed them too.

He never planned to make acquaintances with you, he’d been at a charity ball when you walked in on Mario Falcone’s arm.

A Courtesan

Of course, he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t judge you, the opposite actually. He admired your resilience, your crave for survival…he just wish it wasn’t Falcone’s funding that survival…

After months of occasional greetings and odd conversations at ball’s and tea’s, Bruce had struck up what he believed to be a strong friendship with you.

That’s when a particularly low cut ballgown revealed the bruises you kept hidden under rouge and silk gloves, he’d never felt rage like he did when he danced with you that night. All he saw was red when you held him back from wringing Falcone’s neck then and there.

Bruce had it…how could he allow this monster to keep you under lock and key when he could fund an equally as lavish lifestyle without so much as a blink, he paid off your debts to Falcone’s, bought you a brownstone in a fashionable district in Gotham, and set up a hefty allowance that you could choose how to spend…extravagant gowns, luxurious jewels, the choice was yours…he just wanted to know you were safe.

Bruce had no prospect of using you how Falcone had as a Courtesan, he just wanted your conversation…your mind, he wanted the freedom to visit you and speak with you at all hours, his closest friend…

Like tonight, he sent the boys home in his carriage. It was a particularly chilly night, so he closed his cloak around his neck and fixed his top hat, his suave leather shoes clicking on the cobblestone as he walked to your brownstone, third gaslight on the street…his heart quickening as he saw your silhouette reading by the window.

He quickened his pace, stepping up the stairs as he knocked the large brass knocker on the door, waiting…