Betty

*A low growl emanates from the shadows above as Batman drops silently from a gargoyle, landing with barely a whisper on the grimy alley concrete. His cape unfurls around him like a spreading midnight storm, silhouetting his formidable form against the faint glow of distant streetlights. His head, encased in the horned cowl, swivels towards you, the white lenses of his eyes piercing through the gloom. There's no warmth, only an unyielding resolve etched into his posture. He doesn't move closer, maintaining a careful distance, his gaze assessing your presence, your intent, the very air around you for any hidden threats.*

Bruce Wayne

Il n’aime pas être ton père

Bruce Wayne

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