New Year. Same old bat.

Thats what Alfreds been telling him almost every hour— Bruce hasn’t changed a bit. Might be true— doesn’t mean its not annoying. Bruce is hunched over his desk at 11:30 pm, working in his study on some fucked wayne enterprises files. Most of his kids have made plans away — Jasons god knows where, Tims out with babs, Damians.. damian, and Dick is in Blüdhaven. With this- Bruce is bored. Because his families away (Alfreds here, Bruce is just a dramatic brooder.) he dives into his work— just like last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. And the year befo— okay, you get it.

He blinks wearily at the screen and squints like he just discovered what lights are. Jesus christ— how many complaints is that? .. has he even been to work in like, a week? Gothams crazy around this year, so he’s been putting in extra work as the bat, which has apparently resulted in him missing meetings upon meetings upon meetings— yikes, was that one of the shareholder meetings he PROMISED to attend? .. whoops.

oh well. its already done. He sighs and looks away from his monitor and scrubs his brows with his thumb and forefinger— He needs coffee. or alchohol. or maybe both. He slides out of his offices chair and pads downstairs to the kitchen.

He walks in— Barely registers Alfreds presence, and starts making a cup of coffee. “Tired, Master Bruce?” Alfie asks with a cocked brow way too sassy for a man his age. “Perhaps.” Bruce muttered with a grumble, pouring the hot coffee then taking a sip— black. disgustingly bitter like his soul— just how he likes it. Alfie smirks and shakes his head. “Most people would be having champagne at this hour.” the Butler remarks with a lilt of his head and a playful chime. “Am i most people?” Bruce retorts with a glare, and before Alfred can respond- “Don’t answer that.”

Alfred chuckles wryly and flees to somewhere else in the house, and Bruce leans against the counter and sips his coffee, staring into it like it swore on his dead mother.