'Cute,' he says, though it's not cute at all. She's right, of course, but he's already decided what to do with it, and what his future is. He's pretty sure he doesn't need this.

He doesn't take his gaze from Alfred though. The man is painstaking in his wrapping; no uneven corners, no untidy tape, everything folded neatly. He's taking his time with it, sipping from a small glass of liquor occasionally - and Bruce can't help but notice how sad he looks. How old, which is strange, because this was almost twenty years ago.

'I never thought what this would be like for him,' he says, eventually.

'That night - tonight - I wanted him, but I wanted my parents more. I never thought he might want them too.'

It can't have been easy, suddenly becoming guardian of a boy. Even without circumstances like this.