𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐈𝐆𝐒 ☞ 𝐁. 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

epilogue.

A sickening smirk spread on his face. "My mother used to hit me when I spoke out of turn. I read in the paper that your mother did, too-"

"Mr. Fleck, that is enough." She snapped, standing up from the edge of the bed. Her own glare sharpened towards him. "You are dangerously close to being sent to another location, do you understand me?" The words sat in her mouth like a bitter alcohol, burning her gums and hurting her teeth. They scraped down her throat, ready for her to vomit it all up and spill it all forth.

His hand grabbed her wrist, his grip tight. Her glare only sharpened as she vainly attempted to pull her wrist away. Her jaw clenched as his apologetic eyes looked up at her. "Please don't. I'm sorry. I-" He began to spit out a choked laughter. It clawed at the inside of his throat. Its nails scraped up as it crawled out of his mouth, along with the spittle that accompanied it. "I'm sor-" He couldn't even get his words out. It was almost pitiful. Her glare shifted into a sympathetic frown. But his grip on her wrist tightened further. A dull ache began to settle and part of her was worried it might bruise.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice asked from the doorway. Siobhan turned her head to see Bruce glaring between the laughing man and his grip on her wrist. At his sides, his hands curled into fists.

Arthur's grip finally loosened enough for her to pull it from his grasp. "No... no problem at all." Siobhan smiled reassuringly to the man behind her. "Mr. Fleck and I were just talking." The man in front of her slowly began to calm down, his choking laughter easing. But her reassurances had been in vain as Bruce's glare refused to leave the man's small frame. She was sure that if Bruce had wanted to hurt Arthur, he'd probably accidentally kill the man. He was quite scrawny, malnourished, most likely. "Please try to remember what I told you, okay, Artie?" He slowly nodded, a faint glare being sent towards Bruce in the doorway.

Turning her back on Arthur, she made her way over to Bruce, placing a gentle peck to his cheek as her arm slipped around his waist, guiding him away from the room. "He had his hands on you." Bruce spoke once they were far enough down the hallway to be alone. His jaw was clenched tight and his teeth ground against each other. With gentle hands, he lifted the hand that the man had grabbed and examined it closely, looking for any excuse to go back and confront the man. Ordinarily, Bruce Wayne wasn't a confrontation guy - that was a job for the Batman. But this was different. This wasn't some random drug dealer on the street, this was a man that Siobhan saw nearly daily and would be alone with many times a day. He wanted the man to know his face, to know that if he even thought of laying another hand on her that it would be his fist the man would meet.

"Don't worry about it." She mumbled, pulling her wrist from his gentle grip. "Seriously, he's harmless. You saw him. I think I could kick his ass." Her arm tucked itself under his own, pulling him down the hall. "Come check out the new children's wing. I think they did a damn fine job, if I do say so myself." Just her touch could soothe him, calm the anger he felt when he'd seen the man's grip on her wrist. The corners of his lips perked up as he followed her into another hallway, this one decorated in drawings and paintings on the wall, all done by the children that resided there. It all looked so nice to him. It almost looked cozy. Opening one of the doors, she pulled him into the room of four smaller beds. Posters littered the walls, drawings and bookshelves were plentiful. "Each room has four beds with privacy walls that expand out. We've also got night shift workers who watch over them in case anything happens. And we make sure to keep the rooms stocked with books, music, art supplies, and toys. Even a playground out back, too. Swing set and all. Anything a kid could want, y'know."

There was a proud smile adorning her face as she watched him take it all in. Her arm tightened around his, her chin resting on his shoulder as she stared up at his face. It was clear that his opinion meant something to her, and she was waiting with baited breath for him to give it. "I'm jealous." He spoke, his tone almost playful. "I might move in here."