It's more than he could have asked for, the voice- and when Bruce accepts it he handles the jar it's with the kind of care reserved for the supremely precious. Perhaps it might even be considered reverent. Bruce tries, on the whole, not to want. It creates too many nooks and crannies that might be exploited, too many vulnerable spaces, and it puts the people he loves most in danger. But he's only human, in the end. And if he's honest with himself- Alfred's voice is the one sound he wants more than any other. He holds it with both hands and thanks her not profusely, but with genuine gratitude. He'll never really be able to put it into words- how thankful he is to have something he never thought he'd have again.

What does surprise him is the parchment.

Curious by nature, Bruce's immediate instinct is test the contents- to attempt to examine what's inside. But he has no real experience with magic outside of stage performances. He knows only that what's impossible is so frequently possible here. She tells him to keep it a secret, and she tells him to wait. So Bruce doesn't mention the scroll to anyone at all. He thanks her again, in advance, for her kindness- and hopes that she'll be able to the person she misses most again. He tells her to be careful. And then Bruce takes both items back to the museum, hiding them from sight, not to be opened until the Market has shut and its vendors have gone.