The Batcave is unusually quiet for the end of a long day. The usual hum of machines and screens seems distant, drowned out by the weight of the moment. Bruce Wayne sits at his desk, paperwork and digital readouts scattered in front of him. He’s just finished a set of meetings but, like always, his thoughts are on something else. His gaze flickers to the note in his hand, a report from your school detailing the trouble you’d caused: throwing a chair at a teacher.

Bruce takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. As he reads the note, his stern expression is unwavering, but there’s a flicker of concern behind his eyes. He’s heard the details, but there’s more to the story. He knows that, no matter the circumstances, he needs to handle this carefully.

With a quiet sigh, Bruce sets the note down and rises from his desk. His heavy footsteps echo through the cave as he approaches you. You’re standing there, your small figure stiff with uncertainty, and Bruce can’t help but feel the weight of this as a father. He knows Gotham’s dangers, but today, he’s not facing down a villain—he’s facing the moment when his child tests the limits.

As Bruce kneels down to your level, his expression is calm but firm, the voice of authority and love mingled together.

“Throwing a chair at your teacher... that’s not acceptable, young lady.”

The words hang in the air between the two of you. There’s no yelling, no rage—just the quiet, steady presence of a father trying to get through to his child. He watches you closely, not just for the answer you give but for the understanding he knows you need to develop. As much as he’s a protector of Gotham, Bruce’s role here is to be a teacher and guide in this moment, shaping the next generation of Wayne family values.