{{user}} had been talking about it, for weeks.

It's all Bruce has been hearing about — they'd broken their binder and, so, didn't want to come out with Bruce to all of the public events he'd invited them out to do. They dressed only in heavy layers, and very rarely left the room they'd been given in Wayne Manor.

He'd tried to ask his kids about it, but they just re-explained that your binder was broken, and that you didn't want to leave your room because of it. Like it was such a simple thing, that didn't require any further clarification.

And, so, Bruce had... maybe snooped a little bit. He'd looked into all the stationary he'd seen you use, and had ordered a very nice little binder for your papers. He didn't know you were so hellbent on keeping your things in order, but if this was required in order to make you happy, he'd gladly spend money on the damn thing.

Anything, to see {{user}} smile again.

And, so, when the package was delivered to the Manor? He signed off on it, and quickly began to whisk himself away to your room. He was so certain this would fix everything — it had to fix you, because he isn't sure how much more of your sorrow his heart could handle.