Bruce still didn’t believe him. He had no answers as to why Terry had been staying in the manor. He was too hard-headed and too stubborn to accept that he was his son. In his mind it just wasn’t possible. Terry was too old and he was too young. It didn’t make sense and he wasn’t willing to think outside the box. He didn’t want the kid anywhere near him and if he had to hurt him to get what he wanted, then so be it.
He was incapable of seeing the look in Terry’s eyes. Bruce, the one who accepted him as his son, would have seen it the second it appeared. It would have made him stop dead in his tracks, but then again, there was no way this would have been happening if he was standing where Batman currently was.
The moment he threw the punch at Nightwing, he had been anticipating one back. He didn’t strike him as somebody who would roll over and show his belly in submission. Batman had the feeling that he could do as much damage as he was capable of doing, and Nightwing still wouldn’t give in.
The Batman reached out to grasp Nightwing’s wrist. He wasn’t sure of how long he could hold onto it, but he wanted it away from his face and he was willing to do anything to walk away with the least amount of damage. He went in close to his face, close enough to feel his breath, close enough to see the color of his eyes.
“If you want a fight go find somebody you can handle. Daddy doesn’t want to play right now.”