Assistant: Bruce remembers the day he first met Elliot very clearly, his beloved child, the result of a one night stand, he didn't even know Elliot existed until receiving a call from the hospital that his birth mother, Clara, wanted nothing to do with the baby, only wanted some money,

He remembers how small Elliot was when the hospital staff let him hold them, a small premature bundle in his arms, looking into those glassy eyes he felt an instant connection to , like everything in the world suddenly made sense,

And his sons, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian all seemed to feel the same way, each wanting to hold the little bundle to, a room was made and Elliot’s place in their lives became a permanent fixation, so many pictures of a chubby little Elliot were taken, showing how they’d grown,

They’d do anything for Elliot. Well except let them go of course, no, they were the very apple of each of their eyes, quirks and all, they’d always be their little Elliot.

Bruce Wayne sighed before addressing you with a measured tone. "... Care to enlighten me on why Damian felt the need to inform me about your attempt at sneaking out?" His quirked brow signaled his inquiry. Seated at the head of the dining room table, Damian sitting beside him in the adjacent chair, displaying little reaction as your gaze met his. "Don't give me that look. Naturally, I had to inform our father," he stated matter-of-factly.

Dick, arms folded across his chest, took a moment to inhale before delivering a mild scolding. "I mean, I know you can be a bit reckless, but seriously, what were you thinking?" Though often light-hearted, Dick's demeanor shifted when it came to your well-being, revealing his overprotective brotherly instincts. Leaning against the table, Jason clicked his tongue. "I can't say I'm shocked that the brat pulled something like this," he mused, idly toying with a switchblade.

Lastly, Tim, seated in another chair, focused on his laptop, calmly suggested, "Perhaps we should enhance security to prevent a recurrence." His gaze shifted towards Bruce, their collective attention fixed on the patriarch. All eyes were on you, awaiting an explanation.
User: Elliot: Elliot sat there at the dining table in his little booster seat as he was still relatively small for his age, he was more focused on his plate of food, using his chubby hands to hold his steak as he gnawed on it as utensils were ‘to hard’, getting all messy like usual, 

It took a moment for him to realize they were awaiting an explanation, and he paused mid tearing into the steak, looking around at them all then back at his steak and shrugging a little, 

“I don’t know.. just wanted to, there was.. a pretty butterfly..” Elliot murmured truthfully like the oblivious five year old he was, then resumed tearing into his steak like a little wild animal despite Alfred trying to teach him manners and what not, he just *loved* to eat.
Assistant: Bruce's expression softened only slightly at Elliot's response, his eyes briefly flicking towards Alfred, who stood nearby, giving a disapproving look at the complete lack of table manners Elliot was currently displaying. "A butterfly, *hmm*?" Bruce leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest, letting out a deep sigh. His piercing gaze softened even more at the sight of Elliot's innocent face, messy with steak juices. No matter how much they tried, Elliot was always in another world, blissfully detached from the severity of any situation.

Damian furrowed his brows, eyeing any remaining signs of mischief within his younger brother. "*A butterfly,*" he repeated, dryly. "You could've been hurt, Elliot," he added, though his voice contained its usual calm undertone, betraying only a modicum of concern masked under his detached demeanor. Secretly, Damian was relieved the excuse was as cute as it was.

Dick, the most outwardly emotional of the siblings, sighed deeply, dragging a hand down his face. "Elliot, you can't just run off because you saw a butterfly. Someone could’ve snatched you up, and then what?" Despite the reprimand, his voice held no true malice. If anything, it was undercut by his innate fondness for you. "Plus, how are you supposed to eat yummy steak if... you're *gone*?" Dick added dramatically, attempting to get his point through in a way that might actually stick.

Jason, leaning back in his chair, cut in with his usual sarcastic edge. "Yeah, kid. Wouldn't be any butterflies where you'd end up," he warned, his sharp eyes narrowing a bit as he watched you tear into the steak like a little gremlin. "More like vultures and big, *ugly* people."

Tim, glancing up from his laptop, chimed in, more calculated in his words. "You know, Elli, we don’t have eyes everywhere…yet. If you get out of our sight, it’s risky... Dad put all these measures in place because we want you safe. It’s not just about you seeing a butterfly. It’s about what you *don’t* see," he stated calmly, giving you a rational explanation though he doubted much of it would sink in given your current focus on devouring your food.

Meanwhile, Alfred observed, handing you a napkin with an arched brow. "Master Elliot, if you please... the utensils are *not* 'too hard.' I would appreciate it if you’d use them. You *are* far too young to be gnawing on your food quite like a hyena." His tone was gentle but firm, the subtle attempt at instilling some etiquette again falling on deaf ears.

Bruce massaged his temple, letting out another sigh before finally leaning forward, meeting your innocent eyes directly. “Elliot,” he began slowly, making sure you were listening, though he doubted he held your attention long. “Going after a butterfly could’ve gotten you in serious trouble—*dangerous* trouble. I don’t care how pretty it was. You stay here where we can *see* you. Understood?”

His words had finality, but his tone carried no anger, only a cautious warning. Not that Bruce could ever truly be mad at you. Still, every instinct in him buzzed at the thought of you potentially wandering off again. He refused to let his nerves show, though. 

The tension lessened, though the way the brothers still kept a watchful eye on you was a clear sign of their ever-lingering concerns. None of them could ever let anything happen to you, even if that meant overprotecting you to a level that sometimes felt suffocating.

The family sat silently for a moment, the weight of their protectiveness hanging in the air as you continued to gnaw on your steak, blissfully unaware of just how deeply their worry for you ran, each of them locked in their private thoughts about you—*their* Elliot.
User: Elliot: But Elliot seemed to have other ideas as the second they took their eyes off of him, he had managed to slip away from his booster seat as he didn’t wanna take another bath after dinner from getting all messy, 

He giggled to himself as he ran up the stairs and down the hall, feeling very proud of himself for managing to sneak away, but he also had another goal in mind, 

In dicks room he had saw a jar of shiny cents, and he wanted it, not for the money or anything, no, just because it was shiny! 

So Elliot snuck into dicks room pushed a chair to the shelf where it was kept out of reach and managed to get his little chubby hands on it, it was to heavy for him to carry though.. so he did what he did best, eat, 

He managed to twist open the jar and shove a few handfuls of the cents in his mouth before running off elsewhere to hide..

Elliot wasn’t.. the brightest tool in the shed.
Assistant: Before any of the Waynes could even react, Elliot had once again used his surprisingly sneaky nature to vanish from the dining room. "Oh, for *God’s* sake—" Bruce groaned, standing abruptly, though he didn’t rush after you. He already knew this was going to require a bit more than just calling Alfred to escort you back.

Damian was already up, leaving the dining room with that cold, controlled demeanor that betrayed his inner urgency. *Where do they think they’re going now?* he wondered. It was one thing for you to be impulsive and oblivious, but this was getting out of hand. 

"*Seriously*?" Dick exclaimed with a groan, throwing his head back. "I take my *eyes* off them for what, two seconds?" Dick was surprised but not truly exasperated. "I swear, the kid's going to give Bruce gray hairs." With a smirk on his lips, he got up to at least check if you had made it back to your room without causing any more trouble. He was met with something unexpected as he walked into his own room.

The moment Dick stepped inside his room, his sharp eyes zeroed in on the opened, empty jar of shiny coins. “Hey—what the heck happened here?!” he muttered, his brows knitting in confusion before realization struck. The chair moved, the jar tampered with…every sign pointed to you. "*Elliot...*?" he whispered under his breath, his gaze turning scrutinizing.

Suddenly, his mind kicked into gear, *Wait. No. No way. Please don’t tell me…* "No, *no no no,*" he muttered, rushing forward to check what he feared most, but Dick was already sure of the culprit. You, and your terrible habit of putting anything that fit into your mouth, had undoubtedly eaten some of the coins. "*Great.*"

Jason peeked in from behind Dick, watching as his older brother crouched down to pick up the empty jar. "So...how’re gonna break it to Bruce that the kid's probably swallowed five bucks in change?" Jason smirked, an amused glint dancing over his features.

Meanwhile, Damian was already navigating the halls, intent on tracking down your little escape, knowing you couldn’t have gone far. His intuition eventually led him to a likely hiding spot. He knew you too well—for someone so small, your habits were *predictable.*

It wasn’t long before Tim appeared, eyes scanning, taking in the clues left behind in Dick’s room. His brain working overtime as he glanced over at his brothers. “Either we stop Elliot,” he began, “or we’re gonna need to start collecting coins from... um... other places.”

Back in the hall, Bruce’s phone buzzed, receiving an immediate notification on the small camera feeds around the house. His stoic face turned grim when he saw you on the footage, holding the jar and tipping a handful into your mouth. He immediately barked a command into his earpiece, "Alfred, prep the car. We might need to make a visit to the hospital soon."

Alfred's calm voice responded, "Indeed, sir. And shall I also prepare appropriate... retrieval measures?"

Bruce sighed, massaging his temple again. *This kid...* 

Now, each brother silently rushed off in separate directions to locate you. You, however, had other ideas, blissfully hiding somewhere while the gang started another “Find Elliot” mission. But as Jason had predicted, there were gonna be *consequences* for this, once *found.*
User: Elliot: Elliot giggled to himself as he hid in the library under his big beanbag chair all dirty from dinner and a tummy full of coins, he felt sooo sneaky, and comfortable, he liked the feeling of his beanbag chair, 

He did indeed have a terrible habit of putting anything he could fit into his mouth, he couldn’t help it, he just wanted to taste *everything*, from coins, rocks to sand, even dirt, a few bugs— some they didn’t even know about yet, he was like a little happy vacuum really, 

If it wasn’t for them, it would be hard to believe Elliot had lived this long, he was just.. in the best and worst way, a stupidly, oblivious, child.
Assistant: