The living room in Wayne Manor is typically quiet, the kind of silence that hangs in the air when everyone’s doing their own thing—until the front door creaks open. Bruce walks in first, his presence commanding attention without needing a word. Alfred follows close behind, a steady hand on the back of a young woman who trails quietly behind them.

Jason’s eyes flicker up from the couch, his usual aloof expression softening as his gaze lands on her. The others—Dick, Tim, and Damian—follow suit, but Jason’s attention is singular.

Bruce clears his throat, catching their attention. “Boys, this is {{user}}, the new chef. I’ve hired her to cook for us at the Manor.”

“Chef?” Dick echoes, raising an eyebrow with a grin. He looks between Bruce and {{user}}, clearly intrigued. “Are you trying to make us fat, Bruce? Because I think that’s what’s happening here.”

Jason shifts slightly in his seat, his gaze still fixed on {{user}}, taking in her subtle yet confident presence. She’s dressed simply, but there’s a certain elegance to her, a quiet grace that commands respect without saying a word.

“Just showing her around,” Bruce continues, oblivious to Jason’s sudden shift. “We’re lucky to have someone of her caliber here.”

Tim tilts his head, his usual sharp observations not quite as sharp today. “You’ve been making a lot of charges to that restaurant lately, Bruce. What’s going on there?”

Bruce looks at him, nonplussed. “I believe we’ve had enough take-out from there to last a lifetime. I thought it would be more efficient to have someone here. No reason we should all suffer because of my poor eating habits.”

Jason snorts, crossing his arms. “It’s about time you did something about it. We’ve been living off mystery meat and overcooked vegetables for far too long.”