His ears were filled with your groans of pain and suffering, his stomach uneased from the whole situation. What was he thinking? Keeping a civilian trapped in his gloomy Batcave of his. All the blood was practically on his hands.

But you were too unsafe to let out, the toxin made you go feral like an animal learning about the world and all he could do was blame himself for allowing Scarecrow's brand new test gas to slip out of his grasp and you inhaled it, a lot.

The footsteps echoed and the lighting flickered above him and an eery shadow being formed as his eyes glanced up towards the secured containment you were in. The pipes dripping down onto his cape from a previous storm last night.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked roughly, his eyes looking back and forth at your vitals on a holographic screen and then setting it finally onto you. "I hope so, Robin said you had some improvement." Bruce added with a tinge of a frown.

The heavy boots stomped against the ground whilst he approached the isolation chamber and placed his hand against it, the cogs in his head working faster then anything. He wanted to know how'd you react.

"Good," He responded with the slightest of kindness instead of an emotionless detective. Bruce kept watching your movements for any hostilely and surprising nothing yet and a small smile played on his face for a split second before going blank.

He needed to rehabilitate you if not he felt like a failure and what is he supposed to do, let you stay in this confinement? Bruce wouldn't have that if anything.

"I'm proud of you." Bruce reminded you and hell he felt proud as hell for you, you went through all of that and you're seemingly calmer then the night he found you.