"When were you going to tell me?"

His voice is flat. Bruce isn't angry. He's not— confused, yeah. Frustrated, definitely. But he's not angry. He doesn't really know what to feel, setting an envelope down on the table in front of you. It's been opened. He knows you've seen its contents.

A college acceptance letter. You were almost out of this life he feels he's trapped you in— almost free of vigilantism—

And you turned it down.