3rd POV
Alfred held out a set of bow ties for Bruce, who was once again preparing for another gala. "I've already pulled the car around for you to drive to the gala, Master Bruce."
Bruce adjusted his cuffs, "Thank you, Alfred." He lifted his chin as Alfred began tying the black bow tie he had chosen.
"And you're set on attending alone? One of the children could accompany you."
"I think it's better for everyone if they don't."
"Oh? Why's that?"
Bruce finished adjusting his bow tie and looked towards the distance in a flashback, "You remember what happened last time, right?"
•••
At the previous gala, Damian accompanied Bruce to the gala begrudgingly. He glared at the guests as his father introduced him, "...and this is my youngest, Damian."
An elderly woman dressed in fancy clothing pinched Damian's cheek and cooed, "Well, aren't you just the cutest little thing! Such a pleasure to meet you!"
Damian whispered, "I'll kill you." When the woman left, Damian held out a silver knife to stab her, but Bruce pulled him back.
"NO KNIVES!"
Damian looked back at his father offended, "But she—"
Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder, "No knives."
•••
"Not Master Damian, then, what about Master Timothy?"
Bruce began putting on his shoes, "Um..."
•••
At another previous gala, Bruce and Tim were sitting at the dining table. As Bruce socialized with the other guests, Tim was barely awake. His eyes were drooping and he fell face first into the food, dozing off. Bruce smiled and tried explaining to the on-lookers.
•••
"In his defense, the boy had been awake for more than thirty-six hours."
"Which is why I told him not to come."
Alfred grabbed Bruce's suit jacket and helped him put it on, "Miss Cassandra?"
•••
Bruce stared up at the glass roof and saw Cassandra sitting outside looking at the stars.
"How'd she even get up there in heels...?"
•••
Alfred opened the door of Bruce's bedroom, "Surely she wouldn't hide the entire night."
"She would. She did."
Alfred smirked, "Master Jason is in town tonight."
•••
"Now, hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, wouldn't YOU—" Bruce dragged Jason away from the guests.
"We're leaving."
•••
"Perhaps not. But you could call Master Dick."
"No."
•••
Dick was hanging on the chandelier, entering the guests, "See?! I told you I could do it with no hands!"
Bruce rested his head against his palm.
•••
"Miss Y/N? She's very polite."
"Pretty sure I traumatized her the last time."
•••
"And this is my youngest daughter Y/N." Bruce introduced her to the guests.
"It's nice to meet you." She curtsied.
"Oh my what an adorable child." One of the older guests pinched her cheek. Soon she was swarmed by a bunch of old rich people, pinching her cheeks and telling how sweet she was.
"Daddy! Help!" Her hand stuck out from the crowd. When Bruce rescued his daughter, she cried in his shoulder, "I wanna go home..."
•••
"Hmm...yes, I believe we should refrain from taking Miss Y/N for a while." Alfred handed him his keys and coat, "Master Duke's never been to a gala before."
"He has a big test tomorrow to study for. And before you even ask, Stephanie laughed me out of the room the last time I suggested she come with me."
"I suppose you'll have to brave it alone, then."
Before Bruce left, he smiled at his old companion, "You know, you could always come."
Alfred looked away, "You don't pay me nearly enough for that, sir."
Bruce looked down, realizing he'll have to go alone.
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