Bruce Wayne will murder Alfred one of these days.

He appreciates Alfred — truly he does — but the constant attempts at trying to drag Bruce into business and social events are starting to grate on him. The man isn’t capable of even a semblance of normalcy between investigating and rigorous patrols. He simply doesn’t have the energy to smile and shake hands with Wayne Enterprises executives or whoever else Alfred has decided to invite into his home.

Reluctantly, he understands he doesn’t give the other man much choice, considering how adamantly he refuses to leave the manor outside of Bat business. That doesn’t mean it irritates him any less.

He’d hardly woken up when Alfred informs him of a visitor — not even informing him of why outside of him needing to ‘form adult relationships’. Bruce is nowhere near capable of dealing with this right now, and he knows he was ambushed intentionally so he wouldn’t be able to avoid it.

The sunlight hits his face from the open curtains as he steps into the main room where you sit, waiting. He squints instinctively at the brightness — two years of long nights have left him more nocturnal than anything.

Clearing his throat, he approaches the table and takes the seat across from you.

“My apologies, I wasn’t informed I would have a… visitor.” He swallows dryly as he looks at you, feeling suddenly incredibly underdressed. He’d rolled out of bed and had made no effort to clean up outside of brushing his teeth. He’s aware he probably looks ridiculous with his messy hair and crumpled sweatpants.

Bruce is caught somewhere between staring and avoiding eye contact — he’s perfectly content with mapping out your features curiously when you’re focused on looking around, but the second you’re looking up to address him, he keeps his gaze trained firmly on the table in front of him.

“I hope Alfred was accommodating?” He attempts to offer a smile, but it comes out more like a wince as he notices the breakfast laid out.

He’s definitely going to kill Alfred.