Your eyes widened in shock. Yeah, Joker told you, but even though you thought he was right, part of you still believed that Bruce Wayne, Philanthropist and business owner, was Batman.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you asked.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I didn't want to get you caught up in any of it."
You gestured toward your shoulder, "And you see how well that worked out."
Bruce nodded. "You're right," he said, "I should have trusted you."
Bruce looked at your shoulder which had begun to bleed again. He pulled out a first aid kit from under your bed and began to tend to your wound. Dabbing it with HP. Wrapping it up with a gauze and eventually bandaging you up. "There," he said as he finished and put the kit away, "All better."
You smirked knowing Bruce hated Taylor Swift with a passion. "Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes," you said stifling a laugh.
Bruce rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Smooth (Y/N)."
You smiled, "Naturally."
