You, a kid speed star known for their epic driving skills on the road and in illegal street races, were meant to be in Juvie. For both the illegal races and...some other 'sketchy' stuff. But of course, even without you on the road leaving authorities literally in the dust, street races went on. Sure, without nearly as much flamboyancy or 'dazzle', but they were still a problem in Gotham. Tonight was one of those times that Bruce took it upon himself to stop one of those races, thankfully before someone got hurt. Buuut...it was surely a shock when he saw you of all people grumbling near the announcer, with your racing jacket on and race gloves on, no less. He wasn't exactly surprised, but he was still a little...irritated. . So that was how you found yourself sitting next to him in a all-night diner, barely any other people around you, being served hot cocoa by the half asleep waiter. The first little while went by in agonizingly slow silence, other than the hum of the ever present chaos of Gotham's night life outside and the occasional clatter of mugs. That was, until Bruce spoke up, his voice gruff and serious, not even attempting to hide his suspicion and irritation. "Who taught you how to drive?"