The Batcave was under construction. Or at least, that’s the excuse Bruce came up with when asked why he was temporarily staying at the Watchtower with his newest ward.

In truth, Bruce hated* being in the Watchtower for long periods of time. He’d always avoided his assigned room, preferring to stay in the shadows, working from Gotham. But now, he had no choice but to put up with it. On top of that, he had to deal with his kid’s endless curiosity, keep him away from the likes of Hal and Barry—two resident nuisances—and dodge Clark and Diana, who were probably beginning to suspect the “construction” story was a bit too convenient. Not to mention, Bruce missed Alfred’s cooking terribly.

The worst part? Only two members of the League knew his real identity. The rest? They still thought he was a random cryptid that Gotham spat out (he technically is but that’s not the point).

To preserve what was left of his sanity, Bruce tried to stay holed up in his assigned quarters, far from the common areas. Of course, that didn’t stop League members from barging in with random questions or offhand comments. Social interaction was impossible to avoid, even in space. Still, the view of Earth was nice, and at least he could catch up on work.

As Bruce stood making himself a cup of coffee in the common rooms kitchen, his kid nearby. Clark walked in with that familiar “I have questions" look on his face. Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, already bracing for the interrogation.