He wouldn't have missed this for anything short of an alien invasion or maybe Joker setting the city on fire. Maybe. Lucius had given him a knowing look when Bruce had promised he'd be back after lunch, and now he understood why. The last place he wanted to be was in the office when the reality of what was ahead was suddenly so much more real, as well as the realization that there was so much yet to be done.
At least he knew where to start, and that was food. The doctor said that Dinah need to put on weight, and if that meant going along with her desire to make him eat a burrito, Bruce was willing to put up with it. Getting food made in and served from a truck didn't seem as though it would be much different from eating off of a street cart in Surat, but Bruce was still leery.
The photo though, the one in Dinah's hands, refused to spoil his mood, and he looked at it over her shoulder. It was there, a tiny human that was part of them both. Something they'd known existed, but were seeing for the first time, and that made what was a wonder, real.
"Someone told me it feels like a fish," he told her, but lifted one shoulder, his usual shrug Mediterranean in style. Someone had been Tony, who'd passed that description on from Pepper when Bruce had reported a lack of discernible movement. It was difficult for him, that part of things. He couldn't feel what she felt, as much as he might want to be there and experience everything along with her. This was all hers. "You'll know." There was nothing wrong, and her smile was bright, even as he saw the relief in it.
Bruce sat beside her on the bench and dubiously unwrapped the foil. It was, as he understood it, food wrapped in a flour tortilla - in his case, beans, rice, steak (who trusts shrimp from a truck?), guacamole, sour cream, lettuce, and salsa. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.
It wasn't that it was bad. It was even tasty, in its own way. It wasn't, however, anything he would ever choose to eat of his own accord, and he stared at the combination of food inside the tortilla, trying to reconcile their state.
She drew a smile - and a mock sigh. "A boy," he finished. He'd hoped for a girl, but Bruce was not at all disappointed. There was no way he could be, given the circumstances. He had never anticipated having a child, and Damian had been a wonder. To be given that opportunity again, with someone he loved, and in such a miraculous way, felt like a gift. Maybe one he didn't quite think he deserved, but one, nonetheless.
"At least we have the name part down. Now it's just everything else we need to worry about," he joked, taking another bite and giving less thought to what he was eating than what they had planned. "Have you had any inspiration for the nursery?" It had been his nursery, and his father's before that, and so on, to his great-great-grandfather Alan Wayne, who had been responsible for finishing the Manor during the Civil War. For a long time, the Manor had been a sort of mausoleum, a museum to the memory of his family that left him with nothing but pain. Beginning with the boys, and even more now, it was coming alive, and it felt right that their son would start his life in the same room that his ancestors had, before him.