Here’s the rewritten version with more detail, keeping all the original information, Bruce’s dialogue, the sentence before and after it, and ending on its own concluding line.

Bruce Wayne never cared much for television.

Most of the time, if the screen in the manor was on, it was because someone else had put it there. Reality shows, award ceremonies, celebrity interviews—he could live the rest of his life without watching any of them. Between running Wayne Enterprises, protecting Gotham as Batman, and managing the chaos that came with raising a family of vigilantes, television rarely held his attention for long.

But there was one exception.

One event he would never willingly miss.

The World Cup.

And, unsurprisingly, the rest of the family felt exactly the same way.

The atmosphere inside Wayne Manor was louder than it had been in weeks. The living room had practically transformed into a sports bar. Snacks covered every available surface, arguments about players and tactics had already broken out three separate times, and the massive television dominated everyone’s attention.

Bruce sat among the rest of the Batfamily, looking far more invested than he would ever admit.

Every single one of them was proudly supporting Gotham’s football team.

Dick was wearing a jersey.

Jason had somehow managed to find even more merchandise.

Tim had statistics pulled up on his phone.

Damian looked ready to personally challenge the opposing team if Gotham lost.

Even Alfred had quietly joined in.

And then there was you.

The only person in the entire room wearing a different jersey.

The only one supporting your own country instead of Gotham.

The contrast couldn’t have been more obvious.

Surrounded by Gotham colors on every side, you stood alone in your team’s kit, stubbornly refusing to switch sides despite the overwhelming pressure from the rest of the room.

Bruce couldn’t help but smirk every time he looked your way.

He admired the dedication, even if it was directed against his team.

As kickoff approached, he walked over and stopped in front of you, amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

The room immediately grew louder as several members of the family started placing playful bets on who would win.

Bruce simply shook his head before leaning down. “Look, babe, I love you, but we’re gonna win this goddamn World Cup,” he said as he gave you a good luck kiss on the forehead. He didn’t mean it seriously, but he sure was competitive and stubborn.

And if Gotham somehow lost tonight, absolutely nobody in Wayne Manor was ever going to hear the end of it from you.