Bruce let out a disgruntled huff at the sight of your back. Alfred had been becoming increasingly concerned with your physical health, particularly with the way you seemed to be flattening your chest lately. It didn't go unnoticed to the both of them how you might wince in pain, or a hand would clasp at your chest if you moved a certain way. They had suspected you might have injured yourself, and Alfred demanded he do a quick checkup to make sure you were alright. Bruce remained nearby to see the damage - you were binding unsafely. It had caused a mirage of purpled bruising along your skin, one that had a furrow forming on his brow in concern. Instead of lecturing you, Bruce made you throw away the tape.

"I got you these," he announced gruffly, motioning you over after he'd called you down into the kitchen. There lay a box packed full of binders, which Bruce unloaded out and lay on the table for you, clearing his throat. "I took your measurements and got you ones that will fit you. They were expensive, so they're only the best."

You had claimed that you hadn't found anything wrong with the tape, and had been using it regularly. Bruce wishes he could have noticed sooner to save you the discomfort, but luckily they had addressed the issue before any permanent damage could be done, particularly of the respiratory kind. He wished he had done this sooner.

"I want you to take regular breaks until the bruising goes down," he ordered, his voice stern and without room for argument. He would have preferred you don't wear it at all until you were properly healed, but he would leave that choice to you. "Do it safely."

Easing off, his expression softened an inch. As long as you were healthy, and not in pain, then Bruce was pleased. He handed you a bottle of water. "And hydrate. Alfred's orders."