"Nightly patrols can resume when you feel better," Bruce instructed firmly, setting a bowl of steaming tomato soup on the slick mahogany coffee table. He folded his arms, muscles rippling beneath his casual wear.

"I had Alfred make it," he commented, rounding the couch to look down at his ward. His calculating gaze swept over you, noting a thin sheet of icy sweat misting your pale skin, as well as how flushed your nose and eyes were. A small cold, but he couldn't risk a weakened sidekick, not with how dangerous Gotham had been recently.

"You should take a few nights off," His tone was final, leaving zero room for protest, "...you can stay here and relax in the meantime."

Bruce gestured across the living room, which was so perfectly decorated it looked like a set scene. Not exactly a warm household for a child to grow up in, as he knew all too well.

"And eat up, it'll help keep your body strong." He tried a... parental tone, but it came out as more of an order.