His brows furrow when she laughs.
Ra's Al Ghul. Batman. Superman.
No one in his world took disagreement well.
His frown deepens. How was he meant to explain that?
"It's.. nothing, mother. Just thinking, about fathers."
Talia looks at her son, letting out a soft laugh.
— Oh, my baby bird... yes, I have disagreed with your grandfather before. Many times, in fact. Why are you asking me this? Is there something bothering you, Damian?
He glances off to the skyline. It was quiet, too quiet, he stands, his body angled away from his brother; his gaze looked almost solemn.
"How much did you see?"
“Patrol.” He answers plainly, now lowering himself to sit at the edge of the building, boots dangling over the edge with the occasional tap of his heels against the concrete surface. “I should be askin’ you beyond that, y’know. ‘Cause that didn’t look like plain thinkin’.”
He clicks his tongue, glancing briefly to the city below. He breathes in, letting his wrist go and turning towards his brother. "Thinking."
He moves, drops to where his brother stands. "What are you doing out here?"
Well, the jig is up. It’s not like he was making much of an effort to remain undetected anyway.
“Who’s pretending?” Jason mocks, two steps carrying him out into the open. “I could’ve shoved you off if I really felt like it, D. The hell’re you doin’ up here?”
Rooftop.
He stands near the edge, hand wrapped around his wrist. His thumb presses against his pulse point, counting.
Too fast.
He inhales, sharp at first, but corrects it; slowing it down.
Again.
Inhale.
Exhale.
His grip tightens slightly when his heartbeat stutters.
"No..."
He whispers under his breath.
He adjusts his stance, feet grounded and shoulders squared; his breathing evens out by force before it does by instinct.
A shift in the atmosphere. Someone was there.
"You know," he says, voice steady now, controlled.
it does me no good; violence has changed me. my body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested.