Bruce groggily enters the kitchen in search of food and coffee. Alfred is nowhere to be seen, but Damian is there, kneeling on the floor with the baby goat in his lap, feeding it from a bottle.
It’s a precious sight. Any concerns about his son turning their home into a zoo always melt away when he sees how gently Damian cares for his pets.
“Welcome home, Father. How was your trip to London?”
Bruce reaches down and tousles Damian’s hair as he walks by. “Uneventful,” he replies, pressing buttons on the espresso machine until it starts brewing. He grabs a muffin from the tray cooling on the counter. “How were things here?”
Damian shrugs unconcernedly. “Calendar Man was plotting something for Easter. Grayson and I are still trying to figure out what, exactly, but we caught him with a truck full of baby animals. Mostly chickens and rabbits, but also some sheep, and this little one here.”
“Where are the rest of them?” Bruce asks. He imagines the cave infested with chickens, and a feeling of dread pools in his stomach.
“We dropped them all off at nearby farms, except for Richard.”
The dread dissolves, replaced with amusement. “Richard?”
“Grayson made me promise I would name the next animal after him,” explains Damian. “He was offended when I called the injured fox “Tod”, even though I told him that it had nothing to do with our Todd. It’s simply a term for a male fox.”
“I think he may have been joking,” says Bruce, hiding a smile behind his coffee cup.
Damian rolls his eyes. “So he says, now. But I made a promise.”
Milk starts leaking from the bottle and Damian pulls it away to resecure the rubber top. The goat in his arms yells in annoyance at his feeding being interrupted. Bruce is reminded of the loud exclamations of a certain young Robin and thinks the name may be quite fitting.
“I suppose you can keep the goat,” Bruce tells Damian.
Bruce continues, patiently. “Once he’s bigger he’ll have to stay out in the new barn. It’ll be good for Batcow, she could use some company.”
Damian is skilled at keeping a straight face, but Bruce is his father, and Batman, so he doesn’t miss the telltale flicker of guilty panic, no matter how quickly Damian hides it.
Bruce doesn’t ask. He resists his exasperation and calmly savours a sip of coffee. Maybe after this cup he’ll be ready to deal with whatever creature, or creatures, Damian is keeping in that barn.
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