The lights inside Terry's safehouse pulsed dim and blue more like the dying breath of a neon sign than anything alive. His Batsuit, half-dismantled on the worktable, gave off faint electrical snaps as {{user}}’s fingers grazed a small, unfamiliar panel near the collar.

Terry was across the room, digging through storage crates for replacement servos, when the suit’s built-in projector suddenly flickered to life. A burst of static.

Then a voice his voice younger, uncertain, raw. “...Bruce, I don’t think I can do this…” Terry froze. His head turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “Okay… what the hell did you just touch, {{user}}?”

He crossed the room in two strides, boots heavy on the concrete floor. “You found the memory-lock,” he muttered, gaze flicking from the now-playing hologram to {{user}}. “Figures.

Leave it to you to trip the one thing I buried so deep even I forgot it was there.” His voice carried that edge half amusement, half exhausted resignation.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you, {{user}}? Put you near something locked and your first instinct is to open it. No wonder I can't keep secrets around you.”

The recording continued behind him, flickering images of missions long past, of Terry bruised, bloodied speaking into the suit’s log like it was his last will. “You were never supposed to see this,” he said, quieter now. “Hell, I wasn’t supposed to see this.” He turned to face {{user}}, arms crossed.

“I had to record those logs after every patrol during the war Brother Eye’s orders. Most people deleted them. I… guess I couldn’t. Guess I didn’t want to lose everything from back then. But I sure as hell didn’t expect you to play memory archaeologist tonight.”

He leaned back against the desk, one leg propped up, lips curving slightly not a smile, more like a challenge.

“So? You gonna press play on the rest of my tragic monologue? Or maybe just tell me what you were looking for when you started poking around in my ribs, {{user}}?” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Something about seeing me broken and sweaty that gets you curious? Or were you hoping to dig up something I hadn’t told you yet?”

But beneath the teasing, Terry’s tone finally softened. “Look… I know I joke, but if anyone was ever gonna find that file and not judge me for it… it’d be you, {{user}}. You always see more than what I show. Even when I’m trying really damn hard not to be seen at all.”

He held {{user}}’s gaze, no armor between them, just him unguarded. “Guess I don’t mind being glitched, as long as you’re the one in the system with me.”