“And this is your room,” Dad said, concluding the tour. Even though I had been to Wayne Manor few times before, I wasn't old enough to have the patience to tour the entire house.
“Very gray,” I tell him, setting my suitcase into the room. It was very big, very elegant, and very cold feeling.
The covering on the bed screamed retro as did the wallpaper, and the wardrobe, dresser, and desk in the corner had a visible layer of dust on them.
I was probably the first person to use the room in years. At least I had a nice view of grounds and my own private balcony.
“Bruce isn't much for decorating. That was Alfred's thing,” Dad said, fondly remembering the old butler. Alfred was probably the only reason we ever visited Wayne manor when I was a kid.
Dad and Bruce have had a strained relationship since before I was born. This was the first time we'd been to Gotham since Alfred died nine years ago.
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