Scene: The Batcave — Interrogation Area (a.k.a. Danny’s TED Talk Stage)
Just enough to be annoying.
Just enough to be threatening.
Batman is at the console, pulling up scans that make absolutely no sense.
“Cellular cohesion inconsistent,” he mutters. “Energy readings—nonstandard.”
Danny leans over the back of his chair.
“Hey, if it helps, most doctors just give up.”
The kind that do not belong to anyone who fears what they might find in a cave full of vigilantes and questionable life choices.
From the shadows—like he’s always been there—
Alfred Pennyworth appears, carrying a tray.
Because naturally there are.
“Master Bruce,” Alfred says smoothly, “I noticed the sudden increase in medical supply usage and assumed either a particularly rough patrol… or a guest.”
Disheveled. Bloodstained. Bright-eyed. Sitting like he owns the place.
Danny beams. “Hi! I’m Danny.”
Alfred inclines his head. “Of course you are.”
Damian steps forward immediately. “He is not a guest.”
Danny points at the tray. “There are snacks. That feels like guest behavior.”
“And then un-kidnapped. Growth.”
Alfred sets the tray down.
“Master Damian,” he says gently, “if the young man is no longer restrained, no longer under duress, and currently being offered tea…”
“…he is, by definition, a guest.”
Danny leans toward Alfred, stage whisper:
“I gathered,” Alfred replies.
Danny accepts it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“…Okay, wait. This is amazing.”
Alfred allows himself the slightest hint of a smile.
A this is an active interrogation kind of warning.
Alfred does not even remotely care.
“A hostile situation?” Alfred glances at Danny, who is now happily eating a sandwich. “I would disagree.”
Danny raises a finger, mouth full. “I mean, there was stabbing earlier.”
Alfred hums. “And yet you appear quite intact.”
Damian cuts in, frustrated, “Rapidly. From lethal injuries.”
Alfred’s gaze sharpens—just slightly.
He sets the tray down fully now.
Danny nods. “Yeah! Super convenient. Highly recommend.”
“You died,” Damian snaps.
Alfred steps closer to Danny.
“May I?” he asks, gesturing to Danny’s shoulder.
Danny brightens. “Oh! Yeah, sure.”
He tugs his collar aside.
There’s a faint mark—barely there—where a blade had gone clean through him not long ago.
…someone checking a child for injuries after a fall.
“Does it hurt?” Alfred asks.
“That was not the question.”
“…It did,” he admits. “At the time.”
Like that answers something important.
“Well then,” he says lightly, “we shall have to ensure you are not stabbed again this evening.”
Damian makes an incredulous noise.
“That is not the priority—”
“It is a priority, Master Damian.”
“It is Gotham,” Damian argues. “Stabbing is statistically—”
“—avoidable with proper supervision.”
Danny perks up. “Wait, am I being supervised now?”
“This young man,” Alfred continues, ignoring him entirely, “has experienced a traumatic event, displays highly irregular physiology, and—”
“Also I haven’t had dinner.”
Alfred nods. “—and is clearly in need of a proper meal.”
Damian throws his hands up. “We are not feeding the anomaly!”
“Master Damian,” he says, “you brought him here.”
“And in doing so,” Alfred replies smoothly, “you assumed responsibility.”
Danny leans over to Batman.
“Is he always like this?”
Batman, after a long pause:
Danny nods approvingly. “Nice.”
Alfred picks up the tray again.
“Now then,” he says, “Master Danny—”
Danny lights up instantly.
“You may call me Alfred.”
“…Oh, we’re doing first names? Bold. I like it.”
“—you will come with me.”
Danny stands immediately.
“…You are just going with him.”
Danny shrugs. “He has snacks.”
Alfred gestures toward the stairs.
“Something warm, I think. And perhaps less… violent company.”
Danny glances back at Batman and Damian.
He follows Alfred without a second thought.
Halfway up the stairs, he turns.
“On a scale of one to ten,” Danny says, “how much trouble am I in?”
And disappears up the stairs with Alfred.
Silence settles over the cave.
“…We are not keeping him.”
Batman watches the empty stairway.
Re-evaluating everything.
“WAIT, YOU HAVE COOKIES TOO??”
Alfred, somewhere behind him:
This is going to get worse.
