gibbous
Alfred was busying himself woth folding away the freshly pressed shirts and clothes of the young masters.
He only stops when he spots a rather gibbous figure of a man hovering by the shadows.
Reaching from under the washing machine, he grabs for the pistol Bruce had insisted he kept there.
Holding it against his chest, he walks amongst the shadows, hoping to catch the stranger off guard. He jumps in front of the figure just as it was about to cross the laundry room.
"Master Jason!"
"Alfred! Shit!"
"Language, Master Jason." Alfred sighs in relief. He pushes away the gun aimed at him with his hand, as the young master collects himself, and outs the gun away.
"I thought you were out, Alf. I wasn't expecting you here," he says, replacing the gun in its holster strapped around his thigh.
"Neither had I expected you, sir, to be lurking down here like a seedy character."
His comment earns him a snicker, which awfully sounded like it came from the lump underneath the trench coat Jason was wearing, which Alfred had noticed just now.
"Was it just me, or did your hump just giggle, Master Jason?" He points out, which Jason staggers backward as he avoids the elderly man's hand.
"Oh, no! No, that was me! Really!"
Jason was sweating buckets under that coat, already.
Without so much as an afterthought, Alfred sighs for what seemed like the nth time this day already.
"Master Damian, how many times have I told you to not use your brothers as your mules to sneak out."
The shout of "Drat!" by two different voices just further backs his accusation.
Damian climbs down from Jason's back, and trudges back up the stairs, defeated.
"Try asking me or Master Bruce if you wish to go on an outing, next time. Just a word of advice."
Jason groans in reply, as he too goes back up the stairs, while Alfred goes back to folding his laundry, as he sports a fond smile.