Bruce knew he owed his life to Alfred.

The man had practically raised him after his parent's deaths, after all.

So for his 82nd birthday, at the very least, Bruce had to get him a birthday present.

The only issue with that, was that Bruce has zero idea what to get the butler. Alfred refused to tell him anything he would want, insisting that Bruce didn't need to get him anything.

But even though Alfred told him a gift was unnecessary, Bruce, being the world's greatest detective, knew that meant he was supposed to get a gift, and it had to be perfect.

He thought long and hard about it, and scoured the web for something suitable for weeks on end.

...He didn't find anything.

In the end, just two days before Alfred's birthday, Bruce decided that anything on the Internet would simply not be good enough for the butler. Nay, he deserved something better. Something unique. Something old, just like him.

So, Bruce found the nicest antique shop in Gotham, and set his mind on going there and finally finding the perfect gift for Alfred.

He strode in one afternoon during the business's inexplicably limited business hours, his eyes wandering around the cluttered, dusty interior filled with old, beautiful things. He walked up to the counter, leaning against the wood and ringing the little bell to get the attention of the attendant.

"Excuse me, do you have any things that would be suitable gifts for an elderly English butler who's like a father to me? It's urgent."