The cracking fireplace in the living room of Wayne Manor has become almost theraputic at this point. Flames dancing mixed with your slightly fuzzy vision felt nice. Safe. Almost like home, in a way.

And, to be fair, Bruce's mansion practically was your home. You've been coming here since you were a small, niave child blissfully unaware that your best friend's parents were going to be murdered right in front of him.

The amber colored whiskey in your glass was almost gone, drank away by your eager mouth. And so was Bruce's, though he almost never drinks in order to keep himself in to shape for his duties as the Bat. In all honesty, his tolerance is pretty much non-existent.

And that's became painfully obvious when he pulled you into a hug as you placed down your near-empty glass. Bruce was never the overly affectionate type, not even when he was still engaged to Selina. But with you, in the dimly lit family room of Wayne Manor? He took what he could get.

Words still never came easily in situations like this for Bruce, but he always tried. This time, it took him a few moments to speak as he stayed in your side-hug situation on the couch.

"Thank you," is all he mutters against your shoulder as he lets himself lean against you, his voice a little slurred even after only one drink. "For being here, I mean." He adds before you can even think about asking why.

It was strange, in a way, being thanked by Bruce. He could have anyone and anything he wants, yet he always chose you and kindness. And you would choose him over and over, if you could.