[ It's a little much to wish for. Bruce shrugs minutely — casually dressed himself, coat collar turned up against the wind. What wind? It's inside, the training room having taken the atmosphere of the sprawling Wayne estate on a brisk autumn day, when the leaves are just beginning to change colour. It's a clear sky, windy enough. The Gotham skyline in the distance, and through the trees, the outline of the burnt out husk of Wayne Manor, its sprawling guts replicated down to the most minute detail. Everything in this room was deliberately made. ]
[ The door fades behind them, and Bruce just starts walking. ]
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[ The door fades behind them, and Bruce just starts walking. ]