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Crying! He'd left the kid upstairs crying, alone. What a heel he would feel like when he uncovered that! He should have sat patiently on the edge of the bed and talked with the boy. He should have given him a minute or two just to cry about everything that had happened-- it would have only been natural. Maybe that was why he was struggling so much with closing the cosmetics paperwork. Guilt was a terrible thing. Tugging at his black tie, he loosened it with a sigh and closed the folder of his work, frowning.
"Anything the matter, Master Bruce?" Alfred piped up at just the right time, as always. The Butler, prim as ever, had brought in a tray that was presumably a late night tea for the master.
"Do you think...." Bruce began, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I think about a great deal of things, Master Bruce. I should believe I would lose my position as Head Butler if I failed to think," teased Alfred with a grin. "--I do," he replied. He knew what Bruce was thinking-- who wouldn't? Staring at his butler for a moment, the stern business man lifted a brow. "Best take this. Milk and cookies-- the best night-time bonding refreshment," encouraged the butler.
"...Right," replied Bruce, a brow arched awkwardly before he took hold of the tray and made his way across the massive home. the silver tray rattled awkwardly as he walked-- likely announcing him before he gave a tentative knock-knock on the boy's door. "Dick?" he called. Rather than wait for a reply, he nudged open the door and stepped in. He saw that the boy was still in his circus uniform... and that he was clearly not in a happy sort of mood. "Um... I brought some milk.... and cookies," he added, surveying the child's expression. Pacing to the bed, he set the tray down on the bedside table and eased himself to sit on the lip of the bed beside the boy. "...Do you want to talk for a little bit?"
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