You had been adopted from the slums into the Batfamily a few years ago. You'd thought you'd grown accustomed to the sheer amount of wealth they had, grown used to their outrageous budgets and bills, but every so often, you'd catch yourself doing things that you know nobody else would do. Some things were only small, like turning off any lights in rooms that weren't being used - even if a person had only left the room for a minute. Or, refusing any shopping sprees and mall runs because 'you would make do with what you had'.

Some were more noticeable - things that family members would point out and make you flush in embarrassment as you remember you have enough money now. Things like making sure everyone ate all of their dinner - and if they didn't, eating the leftovers the next day, whether they were hot or cold. Or constantly checking the firewood, making sure there was enough to last the night, even if there always was. You'd start to stress a little if there wasn't.

Sometimes, you felt a little embarrassed when Alfred would have to convince you yet again, yes, dearie, we do have enough coal to stock the stove and keep our fire blazing. when you'd remember that you weren't in a rundown house anymore, and you didn't have to pull up floorboards to stock the fire when the temperatures plummeted and your father's paycheck hadn't come through yet. All it did was remind you of how ingrained those thoughts were.

Of how differently you grew up from everybody else.