Alfred coughed twice in the hospital room and said, "Who's here? Why did I think I heard Professor Schiller's voice?"
"No, no one." Bruce denied it instinctively. Alfred took two breaths, drank some water, and said, "It's been a long time since I last spoke with that professor on the phone. I wonder how he's been lately..."
"He's been doing very well lately." Bruce turned back, adjusted Alfred's hospital bed, refilled his glass, and said, "I'm sorry, Alfred, but I'm afraid I can't stay here and take care of you tonight. I'll come see you tomorrow morning."
"Go on, sir. Dick and Aisha still need you... Oh, right, you should be in your senior year of college now, shouldn't you? I heard Gotham University selects outstanding graduates. Master Thomas was an outstanding graduate back then. I'm sure he wouldn't mind adding another certificate to the Wayne Family's wall of honor."
Bruce gave a dry cough and said, "...I will."
With that, he left without looking back. Alfred smiled. After Bruce had gone, he murmured, "Those without foresight will face immediate worries. If someone always has immediate worries, perhaps they won't have the time to dwell on wild thoughts."
Bruce, already gone, did not hear Alfred's words. But he knew very well that certain conflicts that had built up over a long period were about to ignite. The resulting explosion might not destroy Gotham City, but it would definitely knock him flat on his back.
Looking back over Bruce's three years of academic life, calling his study habits diligent would be a stretch; at best, he worked in fits and starts. Calling his grades outstanding would also be a stretch; at best, they were carried entirely by his birth. If his surname had not been Wayne, he would have been expelled