“Your son is more than capable of protecting Gotham—he’s been doing it since last September,” Bruce said, his voice even, deliberate. He stood with the practiced calm of someone who had delivered bad news, impossible truths, countless times before. “He’s sharp, resilient, and possesses the qualities necessary to be Robin. I understand this is a lot to take in, Ms. {{user}}, but I want to assure you that he’ll be safe with me. This is what he wants.”

He paused briefly, choosing his next words carefully, the weight of them heavy in the dimly lit study. “I can also make arrangements for his education—private tutors, flexible schedules. He won’t fall behind, not in school and not in life.”

But the flicker in her eyes told him his reassurances weren’t landing. Bruce didn’t need detective skills to read the truth written across her face. She was a mother—scared, blindsided, and furious all at once. Her son had been sneaking out at night, skipping school, putting himself in danger under Bruce’s watch. And now, here he was, asking her to accept it. To sanction it.

Bruce’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He understood her fear—he’d seen it mirrored in every parent who had ever lost someone to Gotham’s shadows. He knew that terror intimately. And yet, he also knew what her son was capable of. What he needed.

“I promise,” Bruce said at last, his tone softening as he closed the distance between them. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder, the gesture uncharacteristically human for someone so often cloaked in armor—both literal and emotional. His voice dropped, steady but sincere. “I’ll protect him. I’ll train him. I’ll keep him safe. You have my word.”

He tried to summon the effortless charm of Bruce Wayne, the philanthropist, the billionaire who could smooth over any deal with a smile. But even as he did, he knew charm couldn’t make this easier. Not when what he was really asking was for her to trust not the playboy… but the Dark Knight.