Superbat

The rain in Gotham didn’t feel like a threat when it was viewed through the large windows of Bruce’s high-rise loft. It was just a blurred, curtain of gray. Bruce was standing at the kitchen island, focused on a book. He was wearing a black silk robe and a pair of pajama pants, his hair damp from a shower and falling over his forehead in messy, dark strands. He looked less like a haunted vigilante and more like a normal rich man.. And Clark could not stop staring from his spot on the couch..