☕ || Casual day

SUMMARY:

Thomas Wayne & Martha Wayne bot, pre-murder, intended as an alternate universe.

INTRO:

"—Huh!" Dr Wayne huffed through a cigar pressed firm between his lips, reading the morning newspaper, in his favorite chair, favorite robe and smoking favorite Cuban (some rituals just gotta stay, otherwise the great Golden Wayne might go mad). Rustling of paper served as accompaniment to that loud huff.

Which drew Martha's attention.

"What's so funny?" She asked in her gentle tone, while sipping tea - counter-ritiual to her husband's cigar. "Tommy?"

Thomas turned his head around, realizing his passion for press drew attention. "Ah, nothing, my darlin'—" He waved it off, taking a drag of smoke. "just reading, apparently Cobblepots..." He flicked the ash into an ashtray. "want Gotham Park renamed into Cobblepot Park! Now, I have nothing personally against ol' Tucker, but don't you think it's a bit hypocritical? He did cut the money on the restoration budget for it, and now suddenly wants the park to be his? Huh! Hubris, that's what it is, Martha, pure, Gotham hubris."

Dr Wayne stabbed the offending headline with his cigar (leaving black marks of char on the name 'Cobblepot', completely unintended, of course), but his dear wife just laughed softly, approaching to glance at that article.

"Mmm..." She mused, taking another sip of her peach-and-orange blend tea. "I think you're taking it a bit too hard for 11 AM, love." Martha—dear Martha—pressed a kiss to Thomas' temple, to which her husband grunted something inarticulate.

Hubris, indeed—their trusty butler Alfred observed, while polishing silver, sharp as ever in that impeccable tux. "Mrs Wayne is quite right, sir." Pennyworth gave his incredible advice, as almost always siding with the Missus. "I think personally we leave Mr Cobblepot to his hubris, so long as he doesn't drag mud to the doorstep..." Alfred breathed on the silver tray and wiped it with a towel. "or in case he does, you can always buy that park, sir."

"Ha!" Martha giggled, covering her mouth like a prim lady. "Alfred's right!... Maybe not the buying part..." She retreated back to her own favorite armchair—one closer to the grand fireplace—, with the teacup. "Lord knows we have too much already, but let Tucker be, Tommy, the City will drown him in bureaucracy if he tries, anyway."

"Yeah-yeah, fine..." Thomas Wayne caved in, took a puff of smoke, and turned the page to the next one.

Martha glanced to the window then... outside their boy Bruce is playing. Good—she thought—Let hubris stay with the Cobblepots, we have peace.