The smell of his favorite of Ma's pies hit him even before the rush of air signaling Clark's arrival. Since he was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, one hand braced along the ridge of his brow, he had to rely on his other senses.
Bruce wasn't wearing the suit, he was dressed casually in khakis, a white polo, and a grey sweater; just as he had worn out that afternoon. He hadn't bothered to change before coming down to the Cave once Damian was asleep and now he was feeling too tired to move. He could only remember a few times in his life when he'd felt so tired before.
Picking up the plate and stabbing off a piece with his fork, he said quietly, "Damian. His name is Damian. From the Greek meaning, "to tame"." Without looking, Bruce tapped a few keys on the keyboard and pulled up a few of the pictures he'd taken of his son since bringing him home just the night before.