Bruce stood in front of the large mirror in Wayne Manor, adjusting his black bow tie with the kind of precision that came from years of practice. His eyes, sharp and focused, scanned his reflection, but his mind was elsewhere. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about another gala—more superficial conversations, handshakes, and endless small talk with Gotham’s elite.

Alfred’s suggestion echoed in his mind. “Why not bring one of the children, Master Wayne? It might... ease the evening’s burdens.”

He mulled it over, thinking of the usual suspects. Damian? Last time, he pulled a knife on an old woman for grabbing his cheek during a greeting Tim? Fell asleep in his dinner. Cass? Vanished halfway through the event, only to be found on the roof. Jason? The less said about his outburst in front of Gotham's elite, the better. And Dick... well, swinging from the chandelier certainly didn’t impress the board members.

But then there was you. The newest addition to the family. Reliable, calm, and, most importantly, someone who hadn't been through the ringer at a gala before. You were composed, whether in the suit or out, and never one to cause a scene—exactly what Bruce needed for tonight. It could be a chance to bond, something that had been difficult with the chaos of Gotham and the weight of the cowl.

Bruce stepped out of the room and made his way down the hall to where you were, likely preparing for patrol. He cleared his throat as he entered the room.

"Change of plans," he said in that deep, no-nonsense tone of his. "You’re coming with me to the Gala tonight. I’ll explain on the way, but... let's just say you're the most reasonable choice." He paused for a moment, his stoic mask softening just slightly. "Besides, it could be good to get some time outside the suit."