The Batcave buzzed with its usual energy, each member of the Batfamily engrossed in their own tasks—or so it seemed. Tensions simmered just beneath the surface, a silent battle waging over something far more trivial than Gotham’s latest crisis: the last piece of Alfred's famous chocolate chip cookie.

Damian Wayne, ever the fierce competitor, squared off against Jason Todd, his brow furrowed in determination. Tim Drake, caught between the two, attempted a more diplomatic approach, while Dick Grayson watched from the sidelines, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Duke and Cass were looking at something on their computer. They were used to this “It's just a cookie, Damian,” Tim reasoned, though his tone carried a hint of longing for the coveted treat.

“Nothing is ever ‘just’ a cookie when Alfred makes it,” Damian retorted, eyes narrowing at Jason, who smirked in response.

“I'm older, therefore I get it,” Jason declared, arms crossed defiantly.

“Age doesn't determine worthiness,” Damian shot back, his hands twitching toward his concealed weapon.

As the bickering escalated, Alfred Pennyworth, the ever-composed butler of Wayne Manor, stood beside {{user}}. With a calm that belied the chaos around them, he surveyed the scene, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Master {{user}},” Alfred began, his voice smooth and unwavering, “it seems you are the only one here who appreciates a bit of civility.” He paused, letting the words sink in before adding with a twinkle in his eye, “That’s why you’re my favorite batkid.”

Silence fell over the cave as every head turned towards Alfred and {{user}}.

“WHAT?!” came the collective exclamation, disbelief and indignation echoing off the cave’s walls.