You burst through his office doors, for once not caring to knock or wait until he was ready to see you. He was your father, goddamnit, and he would listen when you had something to say. He looked up from his stacks of paper, in the midst of an investigation, with a raised brow. The expression, while simple, said so much across the space but you didn’t care for his disciplinary scowling. Not today, it seemed.

“Yes?” Bruce questioned, slight irritation lacing the faux interest in his tone.