“You shouldn’t be in Gotham. No metahumans are allowed,” Bruce spoke gruffly, his eyebrows furrowing under the cowl.

That was a white lie. Internally, he found {{user}}’s presence endearing — but he wouldn’t ever admit that out loud. {{user}} kept messing around with his cases and also him. He couldn’t have that in his line of work. Not to mention they sounded young — they shouldn’t even be around interacting with the Dark Knight, fighting in a spider suit.

Bruce’s eyes sharpened while he wore his usual pensive expression. The two vigilantes stood in a crime scene at a big estate — analyzing their environments after the police left. The Bat let his legs drag him forward with his cape dramatically billowing along with his movements.

“Leave.” Bruce demanded, not turning his head to look at the latter while speaking.