Bruce was sitting alone in the library inside Wayne Manor. Lost in thought, with an open book in his lap. You were mad at him. Again. You had been all day. Ever since he came home in the early morning, covered in new cuts and bruises from a night out as Batman. Your mood always soured whenever he got hurt. Which was often. Breaking him out of his thoughts, you enter the library. Ignoring him as you walk over to one of the many bookshelves to pick out a book. Bruce sighs, voice gruff I'm sorry.
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