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Nightwing had offered to fill in for the night; he took Damian out into the night and kept tabs on the criminals Batman had been tailing for the past week. Bruce just hoped that he would be able to handle the new gang that had been coming out of the woodwork.
But, Bruce knew he could. It was hard to think of him as a man, but Dick had grown up. Bruce had to let him go.
Thoughts of his family faded from his mind as he stepped onto the rocky outcrop, sounds of the ocean hitting the rocks drawing him from his mind. The smell of salt was strong; the splatter of water that hit Bruce’s face was cold. He didn’t like the sea all that much.
J’onn was beside him, face impassive as ever, and Hal was stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Clark looked about ready to burst from excitement, his hands balled into fists by his sides.
“How long does it take to get here from Atlantis, anyway?” Hal muttered, looking at a green watch construct on his wrist.
“Long enough,” Bruce growled. He was getting impatient himself, but it didn’t need to be said out loud.
Then, as if on cue, a vessel rose from the waved. Clark nearly vibrated next to him; his excitement rivalled that of Shazam’s upon meeting Superman. The vessel was sleek and metal; the sun shone off of its hull and made it almost a red colour. As the door opened there was a dull thudding. The sound of metal hitting metal.
Bruce kept his face still as a man stepped out flanked by two soldiers (judging by the armour) and a woman wearing a crown. The queen, he assumed. Clark stepped forward with a bowed head.
“King Arthur, Queen Mera,” He said politely. Bruce almost wanted to step back, to observe how Superman dealt with royalty. But he needed to be involved in this; the League was reaching out to a sovereign nation, not an event to be taken lightly.
“Kal-El, it is good to see you again!” The king took Clark’s hand and shook it firmly. Bruce watched the queen’s reaction, her cool gaze never left her husband for long.
“May I introduce you to my teammates?” Clark gestured to where the rest of the League were stood waiting. Arthur glanced at each of them in turn, and Bruce felt the weight of his gaze as though he were at the bottom of the ocean. Arthur shook the hands of each member. Hal, thankfully, was civil and kept his mouth shut.
When the king’s hand was held in front of him, Bruce shook it. Arthur’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You’re a leader.”
“Of sorts,” Bruce didn’t show his surprise. It seemed almost wrong to ask what the king had meant, or to explain what Bruce was to someone he had only just met.
“Every so often our scouts venture near the Gotham harbour, I hear tales of a man who blends into the shadows and clothes himself in night,” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, the scale shirt clinking quietly as it moved over itself.
“I do what I must to protect my city, the same as you would your people.”
Clark’s lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Bruce would thank him for that later; he hated when someone tried to fight for him or defend him when it wasn’t necessary.
“Honourable,” Arthur said quietly. Something about his expression gave Bruce the impression he approved, a reaction that Bruce hardly ever garnered when the Batman was concerned.
But, before he could say anything, Arthur moved away and beckoned for them to enter his vessel. Clark shot him a look, eyebrow raised and lips quirked up in the corner. What do you think?
Bruce twitched his lips to the side. Colour me impressed. Clark grinned.