The smoke from the cups rose silently. The three men sat face to face, their gestures more measured than their words.
Bruce was the first to break the stillness. He took a sip of coffee and sighed.
"How was Gotham City treating you, Sebastian?"
Sebastian nodded, without much interest.
"Not bad. It was… interesting. Before I came, I did a bit of sightseeing. It's a very… changing city."
Bruce nodded.
"I'm glad to hear that. Gotham is a city…" he paused, "that's sick. But I believe it can be cured."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"And what do you think the cure is for this disease, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps the GCPD? Batman, perhaps? Or…" he paused dramatically, "perhaps the Wayne family?"
Alfred's expression hardened slightly, imperceptible to anyone except Sebastian, who noticed it with a spark of satisfaction.
Bruce brought the cup to his lips. "Though, I don't really think so. I just hope the Wayne family can help put this city back on its feet."
Sebastian nodded.
Bruce, unwilling to let the conversation descend into dullness, returned his light smile to his face.
"Well, let's put those topics behind us. I'm not the best conversationalist in the morning."
He adopted the carefree millionaire facade again.
"Tell me, I hardly ever leave Gotham unless it's for business. And even then, only for dinners or parties. I'm really curious... what's it like to travel so much?"
*Liar,* Sebastian thought, but kept his tone neutral.
"Well, it's not like I enjoyed sightseeing that much, Mr. Wayne. While I traveled to other countries during my military career, there was hardly ever time to enjoy the scenery."
"I understand," Bruce said with a serious expression. "I greatly admire soldiers. They train to protect their country."
Sebastian smiled, this time with a hint of irony.
"Well, Mr. Wayne, from your build, I'd say you exercise. You could easily adapt to military life."
Bruce and Alfred exchanged a quick glance before Bruce responded.
"I appreciate the compliment, Sebastian. Don't be fooled, though. I owe this physique to Alfred, who trained me since I was little. It's just looks; I couldn't really fight. I can't even imagine myself away from my alcohol… and a couple of friends."
Again, the playboy mask.
Sebastian sighed and pushed a little further.
"So training, huh?" His gaze shifted to Alfred. "A complete butler, capable of imparting poise and discipline to his master."
Bruce smiled, amused.
"Alfred, in his younger days, was also in the army. What branch was he in, Alfred?"
Alfred sighed in resignation.
"British Special Air Service, Master Bruce. I also specialized as a field medic."
Bruce's eyes lit up like those of a child who has just discovered a secret.
*Tch. Damn Bruce,* Sebastian thought. *The worst part is how he acts. How can he be the same man who beats people up on the streets with a stone face?*
Bruce rested his chin on his hand, feigning innocence.
"Oh… Sebastian, you were in the Air Force too, right? American, of course. Not the same branch… but I'm not entirely sure of the difference. My fault if I'm wrong."
*Damn Bruce,* Sebastian thought, resigning himself.
"That's right, Mr. Wayne. Let's just say they're… similar experiences."
He sighed, bringing the cup to his lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a detail he hadn't expected: Alfred's gaze. Before, he hadn't looked at him directly, always so imperturbable. But now his eyes had moved toward him; they were still looking straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye. They were there, attentive, almost anxious. It wasn't the cold stare of a soldier assessing a threat. It was different. Like a student reviewing before an exam, trying to imprint every detail in his memory. Alfred seemed to want to retain his image, every gesture, every word.
Bruce, to one side, raised his mouth slightly.
"Wow... what a coincidence," he said. And then, in a low voice, as if it were an oversight: "Could he be related?"
Obviously, it wasn't. He had said it to be heard.
"Well, as a captain at such a young age, with possible future promotion… you must have a promising future. My congratulations, Mr. Pennyworth."
Sebastian pressed his lips together, trying to contain the grimace that threatened to form. Inside, he was seething: *damn Batman.* He'd handled everything as if the conversation were a chessboard on which he moved the pieces at will. The message was clear, brutal in its simplicity: "Look, Alfred, this young man is your son. Capable, talented, decorated, and he also has your last name. Doesn't it move you to see him? Well, there he is, right in front of you."
He took a deep breath and carefully placed the cup back on the saucer.
"What you say is true, Mr. Wayne. However, I don't think I have any plans to return to the military."
Bruce's smile faltered slightly. Alfred turned his attention to him as well.
Sebastian continued, with measured calm.
"I think I've… fallen in love with this city. And, recently, I found a job opportunity where I can put my skills to better use."
For a moment, silence fell over the room. Bruce regained his carefree playboy persona, although Sebastian knew him well enough to know that, inside, his brain was analyzing, sorting, and making connections.
"Oh, how lucky, Sebastian," he said with a slight smile. "Fortune always appears in the most unexpected places."
Sebastian nodded and continued sipping his tea. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred. To his surprise, he seemed...happy? Just a flicker, a tiny expression, but he was there. The mere fact that his son was talking about staying in Gotham gave him a spark of satisfaction. Perhaps, Alfred thought, there was still a chance to get closer.
What he didn't know was that Sebastian's thoughts were going in a different direction. He didn't want to be like that neighbor you visit from time to time, affectionately and distantly. No. Sebastian was planning to go straight into his house.
While that thought was brewing in his head, Bruce spoke lightly.
"I'm glad. However, you must be careful, Sebastian. With your skills, you'll surely be wanted by some security detail."
"Something like that," Sebastian replied, almost mockingly. That is, if in your mind you considered the Bat-Family a private security group. Gotham Security.
Bruce nodded, understanding.
"Well, I'm not familiar with those matters, but if you tell me the company, I can look into it for you. Wayne Enterprises has some intelligence subsidiaries. I could help you out."
Sebastian inclined his head in gratitude.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Wayne. But I assure you, this is a... safe group."
He didn't say "legal." That word didn't quite define the vigilantes. But it was ambiguous enough not to completely raise Batman's paranoid sensors.
"Besides, it's not a soldier's job," he added, "more of a supporting role."
Bruce nodded. Plausible. Although he told himself he'd ask for details of that "company."
"Look." Sebastian pulled an envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table. "This is the resume I plan to submit. What do you think, Mr. Wayne?"
Bruce took it without hesitation. He skimmed it, though he didn't need to: he already knew everything about Sebastian. He'd kept an eye on him since he'd found out Alfred had a son. His record was clean, save for some youthful drunkenness and a couple of parking tickets. Nothing to worry about. That was why he trusted his character, why he wanted Alfred and Sebastian to at least have a chance to get to know each other. He couldn't force a father-son bond between them, but he could make sure they didn't have any regrets later.
"There are certainly things I don't fully understand, but I'm sure you're overqualified for any position you want," Bruce finally said, placing his resume on the table next to the pastries.
At first glance, it seemed like a trivial gesture. But if you analyzed its exact position, you realized it was perfectly in Alfred's line of vision. A silent invitation for him to read it.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I appreciate your kind words," Sebastian replied.
-----------------------------------
Bruce, after a moment's thought, offered with a cordial smile,
"You know, even though I don't know much about your work, you seem like a nice person. I'm sure I can help you. If you give me the name of the company, I might be able to recommend you."
In reality, his mind worked on another level. A recommendation was the perfect excuse. If he didn't find anything odd about that company, he'd go ahead, he'd have nothing to lose. If it turned out to be shady, he'd simply dismantle it from the shadows. And Sebastian would see for himself that it wasn't trustworthy, ending up at another company where Bruce could accommodate him. A fair play.
But Sebastian's thoughts were different.
*Good. The fish bit… no, the whale.*
"Oh, don't bother," he said calmly. "You've done enough. I'd feel guilty if I took advantage of your goodwill."
Bruce smiled confidently, with that arrogant rich-kid expression that seemed to carry the world in his pocket.
"Relax. I enjoy your company. If you give me your name, I assure you I'll do everything I can to help you get the job."
*There it is,* Sebastian thought. *That arrogant smile of an heir who thinks he has everything under control. Bruce Wayne, not Batman. And I can handle him.*
"Well…" he said, feigning resignation. "If you insist, I can't refuse."
Bruce's eyes shone with triumph. "Excellent. So tell me, what is the name of that mysterious employer?"
He had already prepared his mental framework, ready to cross-reference the information with any file in his memory. But what he heard completely threw him off.
"Wayne."
The silence became heavy.
Alfred's eyes immediately shifted to Sebastian. It wasn't surprising. He was alert.
Bruce blinked, still smiling.
"Sorry, I didn't hear you properly. Looks like the coffee didn't cure my hangover yesterday. Could you repeat that?"
Sebastian felt the laughter in his throat, but he held it back.
"Wayne," he repeated calmly.
Sebastian knew it. Bruce Wayne had just promised he'd do everything he could for him. A straightforward denial would put him in an awkward position. And just as Bruce opened his mouth, Alfred spoke first.
"No."
The tone was firm, dry, as sharp as a stamped seal.
Sebastian glanced at him, but didn't linger. He leaned toward Bruce, his voice clear.
"Mr. Wayne, I'm aware of the enormous work Mr. Alfred Pennyworth does. But... the mansion is far too large. And, from what I've seen, he's the only permanent employee. He's not just in charge of maintenance. He's also in charge of the kitchen, the administration, the preparation of your wardrobe, your routines, everything. And while I know you can do it, I also know that you're human. I respect you for that."
He paused briefly, looking down at his empty cup.
"That's why I want to offer myself. Not because I think I can replace Alfred today. That would be ridiculous. But I believe I can be useful now. And, in time, learn from him. Prepare myself to, when necessary, take over. I'm interested in learning the trade from the man who"—his voice faltered for a moment, he swallowed—"from the man who preceded me in everything."
The office fell silent.
Bruce looked at him, still speechless. His first instinct had been to refuse. This wasn't just a common butler position. This wasn't just Wayne Manor. He wasn't just the millionaire playboy philanthropist. He was Batman. And Alfred wasn't just a butler: he was his shadow, his compass, his family.
But the rejection did not come out.
Because another image took over his memory: Alfred, exhausted, moving day and night without rest. Alfred, stitching his wounds with his eyes reddened with exhaustion. Alfred, bearing a burden no man should bear alone. Bruce had always told himself he would survive as long as Alfred was there. He had never thought of replacing him.
But... what about Dick? Barbara? What would happen if he wasn't there to take care of them?
At that moment, it became clear to him. The same support Alfred had given him could one day be given to those who inherited his will. It wouldn't be immediate. It would require training, time, trust. Because what made Alfred indispensable wasn't his skills—those would fade with age—but his loyalty, his constancy, his place within the family.
And Sebastian, for the first time, became a potential option. He had talent, discipline, and the stubbornness that had led him to enlist in the army at just seventeen. Bruce had watched him ever since, silently, like a distant shadow. Every achievement, every fall, every promotion.
And now, all of this gave him the necessary opening. A chink in the armor of distrust.
An opportunity that made him want to reach out.
Bruce took a deep breath, and the carefree playboy mask returned to his face. He took the resume and held it up with a light gesture.
"Very well, Mr. Sebastian Pennyworth." The smile was clear, almost childlike. "Over the next two weeks, we'll evaluate your performance. Don't worry: I'll speak with someone about extending your military discharge for two more weeks. And at the end of the probationary period... if the result is satisfactory, I'll help you process your full discharge."