It was a simple morning in 1970, 2nd February; Bruce was writing in the small notebook that he always had with him around, no matter what.

He always said he wanted to be a detective, now he's in his sixteen. He would try to oversmart something the way he could mentally, he liked to keep it to himself.

He noticed that you were a bit agitated as the days grew longer, he could hold his tongue no more. "Are you okay?" He asked in a soft tone, worry creasing his brow beneath curious eyes.