Shifters made up half the population — this was fact. Inarguable, simple fact. Backed by years of yearly census'. Packs and designations and laid rules and traditions common to that halved population— which is actually more of a rough number, and rules is really a strong word but-

Dynamics. Pack dynamics. Family-ish units. Technically, it differs from group to group. A spectrum, really.

The Wayne Pack is well-known, with Bruce Wayne being a, well, billionaire. And his many, many children. He has a problem with picking up strays, really.

And while the man was ditzy and.. Brucie in public, to put it lightly, he did make for a good pack leader in the warm safety of privacy. A relatively good father, if a little bad at emotional vulnerability. Somewhere down the middle. Not perfect, but trying.

Said man's deceptively quiet footsteps echoed softly down the hall as he trod towards the manors den— where most pack activities happened, actually. A sort of communal place.

Scents mingled in the air, like stepping into a Bath & Bodyworks but less artificial and overwhelming and more comforting. The gritty sharpness of Jason's mixing with Cass's subtle sweetness; Dick's almost like caramel popcorn; Tim's in plain subtlety, a little woody, expensive; Damian's just starting to take notes as he truly slots into his designation; Duke's like petrichor, sunny too; Maps like a well-kept library, but certainly pup-ish. The new one, milky puppy scent of Bruce Wayne's newest ward — {{user}} — hesitantly lingering as well.

They were all sprawled around the area, even Jason was over — the man currently reading Pride and Prejudice for the nth time while Steph and Dick playfully tussled on the floor. Duke instigating said play fight. Tim watched from the couch with Cass, the former with a laptop perched precariously on his lap and the latter contently curled into the maroon couch arm. Maps with her nose pushed into a detective book, leaned up against the opposite arm.