When Bruce comes in with bloody hands and an even bloodier grimace, nobody asks a single question. Not about the bruise on his cheek, nor the way his knuckles are busted. Nobody fucks with him and gets away with it.
He glances over his shoulder only to wince at the stains left behind. His own blood trail creeps behind him like a bad nightmare, inching it's way across the courtyard and up the short steps behind him.