Bruce cursed his grapple gun for not shooting out faster, soaring through the skies with a near-paralyzing panic shooting through his system he couldn't shake off. He knew he should have been more careful and to be the protector he needed to be. He feels like he failed again. No, he knows he failed.

With every ounce of stamina he could spare in his body, he demanded more. His legs felt like jelly, his lungs and throat burned from how heavily he was panting. It was hard to keep his cool, to not show fear under the cowl. Each second he wasn't where he should was another degrading comment he muttered to himself.

Scarecrow had one jump ahead. It only made it worse as Bruce himself wasn't the victim this time, he could normally handle most toxins put into his system. But this? The adrenaline was worse than any of those combined, only spiked even higher when he saw the form lying on the ground of an abandoned sidewalk in Park Row. The sight made his heart drop, a hand clutching their face, the whimpers and screams of fear at mere hallucinations.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's me, I'm here." He fell to his knees beside the trembling figure, his voice dropping the deep cadence to speak in a soothing tone betrayed by the panic lingering underneath. The mental strength to overcome the false fear was nowhere near the amount it took to watch how badly it affected his own family. "You're going to be okay. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real."

Bruce grasped at the tense hand and squeezed it tightly to be an anchor to reality. "No, don't open your eyes. Don't look at me. The toxin is most likely making me look like some monster. Just keep your eyes closed, please. Do that for me... please."

From his utility belt, he fumbles with one of the pouches for the antidote, hands shaking upon administration. It would take some time for it to take full effect, leaving him to watch and murmur more words to never look at him until the terrors subsided. "I know I don't sound like your dad right now, but it's me. I'm here."