It was an early morning for Bruce. He hadn't gotten much sleep after he'd put the little kid to bed. That was nothing new. He'd gone down to the cave to do a little training before catching a couple of hours of shut-eye. A quick shower later, and he'd asked Alfred to make waffles-- which the man was already amid doing anyhow! Ah! Alfred had a sixth sense about him sometimes. Wandering up to the kid's room, he had tossed on a pair of brow dress pants, a slim belt, and of course-- a drably plain white dress shirt as well. Business casual seemed to be all the more casual he ever dressed. Nudging open the door, he grinned briefly before pausing awkwardly. He didn't have to see sheets to know something was off- he could smell the faint aroma of terror. "...Dick?" he began, lifting a brow as he watched the boy scurrying with bundled sheets. "Um... Is something... wrong?" He already knew what was wrong! He just wasn't quite sure how to approach the matter.

Dick seemed to turn pale, seeing Bruce come in. "I, I, I," He said stuttering, not sure how to explain he had wet himself and the sheets. "I, um, had a bad dream," He said not able to admit it.

A lesser person would have gotten mad-- but these things he did understand. Rather than crumple his face with a frown, he offered the boy an understanding sort of expression. "--You don't have to do that, you know... Alfred will take care of the sheets... Maybe instead, we should worry about getting you cleaned up... These things happen," he reassured the boy, kneeling down to Dick's level. "Do you want to talk about it, Dick?"

Dick sniffled, but nodded his head. He stared at Bruce, tears forming as he said, "I kept seeing them, in my head, them falling." He then burst into tears, hugging Bruce's chest.

Nodding quietly, Bruce circled his arms around the boy's back as he embraced him. It felt a little more natural this time. The tears quickly bled through his dress shirt, but for the time being, he didn't seem to mind. "It's alright, Dick. It was a very traumatic experience," he eased, giving the boy a few moments to collect himself. A few minutes later, he relaxed his hold on the boy. "Why don't you go on to the bathroom and get a shower, hmm? A clean change of clothes and a hot shower might ease your mind," he offered. "I thought today we could go to the zoo. It might help take your mind off things... When you're done, you can come down to the kitchen... I hear Alfred is making his famous waffles." He couldn't help but try to smile at the boy with the last line. He hoped the kid liked that sort of thing. Sometimes he felt so clueless.

Dick sniffled, and nodded his head, "I like waffles." He then went to his dresser, fumbling through it, pulling out a ragedy looking t-shirt and shorts, both obviously hand-me-downs from someone in the circus. He then went into the bathroom, pulling off the wet costume, climbing into the bathtub, and turning on the shower.

(Hope you caught the hint there, Dick needs to go clothes shopping)

[Oh ho ho! MUA HA HA! All the awful things they will buyyy! And by awful, I mean suffocatingly cute.]

Bruce smiled-- he couldn't help but smile. Thank goodness the kid liked waffles! It wasn't that he worried about having Alfred cook something else-- it was just that, he was worried maybe the boy wouldn't have liked anything after such a traumatic experience. There was one thing he did see that he didn't like-- the raggity clothes did not go unnoticed... He stroked his chin for a moment before padding down ahead of little dick to get a head-start on breakfast. Upon finding Alfred, he asked about the clothes. "Alfred?"
"Yes, master Bruce?" The butler replied.
"Um... Are... all of Dick's clothes... you know... really...."
"Worn? Old? tacky? yes, I'm afraid so, Master Bruce. Shall I order some clothes from the catalogue?" asked Alfred.
"No, no," Bruce replied, scratching his chin in thought. "...I'll take him shopping-- I don't want him to feel like we're ordering things because we don't have time for him... and he really should have clothes without holes in them...."
"Very good, sir," Alfred replied smiling. Ah! It was nice to see Bruce focus in on something other than giving villains concussions with the baterangs.
For now, Bruce seated himself at the table and munched a waffle without syrup-- he was a dull sort of guy. Sweet things didn't generally please him. Steak would have been delightful! He was more interested in his coffee-- and the news paper.

A few minutes later, Dick went into the kitchen, nervous. He then saw the waffles on the counter, but it was too big. He didn't know how to get the plate, and didn't want to ask Alfred for help for such a small matter.

"Have a seat, Dick," Bruce greeted the boy, peering over the top of his newspaper. Folding it in half, he watched Alfred set another plate of fresh, golden waffles for the kiddo. "Uh-- Don't be shy to ask for things too... This is your home now too," Bruce encouraged. He didn't want the little guy to forever feel like a house guest! --well, unless he managed to figure out how to get into the batcave. He would be a house guest there, as far as Bruce was concerned.
Alfred served the waffle and stepped back, leaving Bruce to lift a brow. Reaching over, he took up the boy's fork and knife. "Here... let me...." He began, cutting up the waffle into smaller, bite-sized pieces. "there!" he exclaimed, Sitting back with an entirely too satisfied expression.

Dick blushed, but nodded, "Thank you," He said, reaching for the syrup, pouring it on the waffles. He then got his fork, putting some in his mouth. "It tastes so good Alfred," He said speaking with food in his mouth.

(Hey, he grew up in a circus, not likely to develop table manners.)