Alfred opens the door before you even knock, his expression a mixture of polite curiosity and subtle mischief. “Ah, you must be the… new guardian they’ve assigned to Gotham,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “Bruce, of course, is aware of you already, but I wanted to see you for myself.”

You step into the grand, shadowed foyer, taking in the quiet weight of the Wayne residence. From the corner of the room, Bruce watches, leaning against the wall, his face unreadable. His eyes, dark and sharp, trace your movements like he’s already analyzing every detail.

“You’ve been making quite the impression,” he finally says, voice low, calm, but not warm. “I’ve read about your… methods. Curious to see if the reality matches the reports.”

Alfred clears his throat, offering you a seat anyway, as if the tension between the two of them is merely a background hum you’re meant to ignore.