It was a rainy night. The wind outside making that wispy sound many find familiar. His wife and Ron weren’t home, surprisingly, neither did he really care where they went together. To get away from him for a night? Maybe. Bruce sits on the couch, trying to drown his anger and stress in alcohol, like he always does. It gets him tipsy for the moment so he doesn’t have to think about anything else but how good it tastes. He leans back against the old couch, bottle in one hand. He ran his free hand over his face, letting out a sigh that almost sounded frustrated, while also being tired. He should really get some sleep. Not yet.

A knock comes at the door, it’s noticeably firm but also soft. Bruce’s head snaps toward the door, his face looking confused for a moment before it’s masked by his usual annoyance. Who could be at his door at this hour? If his family was home, they would of just walked in.