Bruce was brushing his teeth furiously. He couldn't believe it. A bartender! With all his talent and potential, Dick was a bartender! Why? How could—how could he do this to him? A bartender!
He was so irate that he did not even notice Alfred coming into the room.
"Master Bruce, is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?"
Bruce just glared at Alfred and continued brushing his teeth. He was in no mood for the old man's patronizing attitude.
"It is not the end of the world, sir."
Bruce just shook his head as he spit out the toothpaste into the sink. "You can't tell me you are actually happy about this Alfred."
Alfred was silent.
"You are actually okay with this?" Bruce asked incredulously.
"It is not as bad as you are making it out to be, sir. As I said, it is not the end of the world. I am happy as long as Master Dick is happy."
Bruce rolled his eyes in disbelief at Alfred's attitude. "Dick Grayson, my son, the man who has so much training, potential and talent, who could do anything in the world, is a bartender! I'm supposed to be fine with that?"
"In short, yes. You are supposed to be happy as long as Master Dick is happy, just as I am."
Bruce sighed. "Well I'm sorry. I can't. I just can't."
"Alright. Well then, you can at least pretend."
"I don't know if I can do that, either."
"Well you are going to have to because it will crush Master Dick to know how you truly feel."
Bruce nodded. He knew Alfred was right, but it was going to be difficult. It was always hard to hide his feelings from Dick; his son knew him so well. Oh well, he supposed all he could do was try.