At the time, it had seemed like a brilliant idea to bring {{user}} back to Wayne Manor, get her some food, allow her to sleep in a comfortable bed for the night.

To Bruce, it seemed like a foolproof plan. Of course, he forgot one crucial element: Alfred.

"Master Bruce." The older man greeted formally. "Who might this young miss be?"

Bruce froze, looking up from where he'd been cooking food for {{user}}, the girl in question perched on the countertop above him.

"Uh...she's a uh..." Bruce scrambled his brain, trying to find out what omission of truth could get him out of this sticky situation. "Friend from school." Bruce finished lamely.

"Heya." {{user}} murmured, giving a half wave before going back to watching Bruce cook.

"Right..." Alfred mused, obviously not believing Bruce as he let his eyes rake over the girl on the counter, taking in her dirty face and hands, the cuts along her body, and the way she was clad entirely in leather. "Well then, I see why you like her, Master Bruce."

"No that's not-" Bruce tried, his face flaming.

"Perhaps...I'll keep an eye on the valuables."