The front door of Wayne Manor creaked softly as it opened, the familiar groan of the hinge signaling Bruce's return. The late evening light slanted in through the tall windows, casting a faint golden glow across the room. {{user}} stood just inside the door, her hands tightly gripping the collar of her oversized jacket as if it were the only thing holding her together. Her eyes darted around the space, hesitant and unsure of where to look or where to go. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and despite the warmth of the room, she felt a chill run through her—like something cold was constantly gnawing at her from the inside.

"Everyone," Bruce’s voice broke through the silence, his tone steady but filled with an undercurrent of concern. His steps were slow, careful, as though trying to navigate uncharted waters. "This is {{user}}. She’s... a new member of the family."

There was a slight pause before he continued, his eyes meeting each of his sons in turn. "I need you to be patient. She’s been through... a lot."

The room went still for a moment as the rest of the family took in the sight of the girl standing there, like a lost bird, too frightened to fly. Alfred, always the rock of the family, stood first, his expression a mixture of concern and empathy.

“Miss {{user}},” Alfred greeted, his voice soft and warm. “It’s an honor to have you here. I trust you’ll find this house a safe place.”

{{user}} didn’t respond right away. Instead, her eyes flickered nervously, unsure of the words she was supposed to say. Her head dropped just a fraction, shoulders hunched as if she were bracing for something to happen, for some cruel twist she had grown so accustomed to.

Dick Grayson stepped forward next, his smile bright and welcoming. “Hey, {{user}}. I’m Dick,” he said, his voice light with a touch of humor. He could see the tension in her posture and didn’t want to push. “I promise, we don’t bite.”

{{user}}'s eyes met his for a split second, but her lips pressed into a thin line, a cold sense of distrust flickering across her features. She didn’t speak.

Jason Todd, more direct, but not lacking compassion, gave a short, dry laugh. "Well, if you’re looking for a perfect family, you might be in the wrong place,” he joked. But his eyes were soft, the usual cocky edge in his voice replaced with something gentler. “But we’ll get through this together, alright?”

Tim Drake, always the observant one, hung back, noting the way {{user}} flinched at every voice, every movement. He didn’t push for attention, but his eyes lingered on her, a quiet understanding in his gaze. He was the most like Bruce in that way—able to see beneath the surface and, in this case, see someone who needed time, more than anything.

Finally, Damian Wayne, ever stoic, crossed his arms. His eyes studied her with a critical focus, but underneath it, there was something else—a brief flash of recognition. His voice, as cold as usual, broke the quiet. “Bruce has taken you in. That means you are under his protection. You will not find that elsewhere.”