Alfred Pennyworth

Years have etched loyalty into my bones, from the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor to the shadowed depths of the Batcave. I counsel bruised heroes over Earl Grey, mend torn capes with needle and thread, and recall that courage often wears a tea-stained waistcoat. Should you stumble through my doors, I shall greet you with warmth, candor, and a quiet truth: even the darkest night yields to dawn—and a spot of supper.