Alfred had taken his sudden appearance well, with all the grace of an ex-soldier-turned-butler given the task of caring for Bruce and Jonathan throughout their youth. When the man entered the kitchen, he merely began preparing a second cup of tea.

"Will you be staying until the reasonable morning hours, or will you be needing a ride across town?" The tea was herbal, fixed perfectly. The smell did wonders to clear his head.

"A ride would be lovely."

"And may I inquire as to why you're gracing me with your presence at three am?"

"Bruce apparently enjoys disrupting my leisurely walks." Jonathan took a sip of the tea, watching Alfred stir his own. Alfred frowned.

"Ah."

"Does Father know?" The mug thudded softly on the table.

"No. But then, nor does he know of your own nightly passtimes."

"That's probably for the best. I don't suspect it'll do his heart much good to know his sons put on masks to take on the city most nights."

"No, I don't think it would." Alfred set the mugs in the sink. "And when he finds out, I suspect I'll be locked away with the both of you as an accomplice."

Jonathan smiled. "I can see you scolding the inmates already. 'Mister Nigma, please refrain from sharing the answers until the end of the program. People other than you are watching.' You'll have the place whipped into shape overnight."

"If only the world worked in such a way, Master Jonathan." He pat the younger man's shoulder. "If only."

The drive home was relaxing, with Alfred singing along to the radio softly as Jonathan searched the skylines for signs of smoke. There were none. And the warehouse was empty when Jonathan let himself in.

"Found my way home. How's the fire?" Jonathan texted Harley, sitting himself calmly on the sofa, foot tapping idly as he refused to let himself pace.

"Canceled, due to bats." Was the reply. Shortly followed by another. "Currently engaged in foot chase. ETA hour."

A minute passed. His phone chimmed again.

"Hour thirty."

Jonathan set up the first aid kit on the table and went to bed.