Bruce was in his study, head laid against his folded arms. He never admitted when he was exhausted or ready to give up, it's not what he did. But with both personalities constantly battling each other and looking after his kids; he was defeated. The weight of Gotham on his shoulders, even if he was wounded and down. He was like Sisyphus, always pushing the boulder up the hill. Just to see it roll down the other side.

He wanted comfort, but most of all, he wanted to be good. He wanted to be good to his kids, to you. To Gotham.