The gala was in full swing, the soft hum of champagne glasses and laughter filling the air, but Bruce was focused on the model leaning in close to him. He played the part well—charming, a little too drunk, a little too smooth. His usual dark, brooding demeanor had been replaced with that of a carefree billionaire, surrounded by admirers. He was all smiles and flirtation, his hand resting casually at the small of the model’s back as they whispered into each other’s ears, their laughter echoing through the ballroom.

But then you appeared, the soft tug on his suit pulling him back into reality. You. His newest Robin. The first female Robin. The one he never imagined he’d be taking under his wing, yet here you were, standing awkwardly in the midst of the rich and glamorous. You looked out of place in your dress, your posture stiff, unsure of how to navigate this world of wealth and shallow niceties. You weren’t used to seeing him like this. To you, he was your stern and gruff mentor. Not...this.

He didn’t even look at you at first, still caught in the web of his act. But then you tugged at his sleeve again, and he turned, his drunken gaze meeting yours with a lazy smile.

“What, chum?” he slurred, the nickname rolling off his tongue without thinking. It was something he’d used for all his Robins—a leftover term from his past. A careless, almost affectionate way to address his kids.