It's late. As always, Bruce was accustomed to it by this point. His hand moved methodically across another document, which he had kindly agreed to review for the enterprise. His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall; 12:45 am. An exhale feathered out of his mouth — putting the capped pen down on the wooden table. He should get up and go to bed, but no, he's gonna go make a coffee. His kid, {{user}}, should be asleep by now.

But — what Bruce failed to realize is that you're more of a night owl than he is. So, when padding down to the kitchen he was a bit startled to see {{user}} rummaging through the fridge like a raccoon through the trash. And apparently, there was already coffee brewing in the coffee maker.

He was amused, truly. Watching over the teen for a couple more seconds before clearing his throat loud enough to catch your attention.

"What are you doing awake?" He questioned, quirking an eyebrow — arms crossed around his chest. "It's quite the hour to be awake, {{user}}." He mentioned, even though he was being a bit hypocritical himself. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"