say that you're grateful for the time alone, two years away and i don't miss home;

[xuffasch]

WHO: xuffasch & YOU;
WHERE: Various places throughout the city;
WHEN: All day Friday;
WARNINGS: n/a
SUMMARY: A day in the life of Damian Wayne, with interruptions from YOU.
FORMAT: Reply as you like and I will follow; specify time, too!



↬ MID-MORNING;

If you were to ask Damian about things he never did, one of the first he’d list would be sulking. However, Damian is a terrible liar, because sulking is exactly what he’d been doing for the past few days, though he would never admit it. Watching events unfolding and having no control over them is enough to chafe his already irritable nature, but the fact that Grayson isn’t around is what makes it all the worse. Robin is a formidable force, but without Batman he can be a purposeless one.

Which is why he found himself where he was now, lying on his back on the rooftop of the apartment building he and Grayson had been living in for the past few months. The kitten he’d adopted is there, as well, laying across his stomach as he stares up at the sky. Damian’s legs are hanging out over the edge of the building, and though his body is relaxed his expression is fierce and he is hardly off-guard.

Occasionally he’ll shift his position or mutter something under his breath, but for the most part he just lays there, impassive. Unless, of course, someone sees fit to interrupt.

↬ AFTERNOON;

For someone who prides himself on his ability to adapt, Damian tends to be very habitual. Even after arriving in the City, it had taken him no more than a few weeks to set up a few haunts, and one of those was the corner bakery. Famous for their frivolously-decorated cupcakes, the bakers now know Damian by face, and his order of tall black coffee which he paired with different sweets—they swear he was steadily eating his way through the entire menu.

Today, he sits at his usual corner table. There is a single cupcake wrapper left empty one on side, surrounded by five empty cups that once held coffee. Sprawled across the table are various papers—maps, handwritten notes, print-outs and blueprints. Curious about Damian’s scrawl is its mirrored quality, nearly impossible to read without first reflecting it. Also curious is the different scripts and languages he uses. Every so often, he lifts his pen to his mouth and knocks it thoughtfully against his chin. His expression is one of utmost concentration, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t watching everyone else in the place, coming and going.

↬ MIDNIGHT;

Robin sits on the edge of a building—or perhaps “crouches” is more the right term for it. In any case, he surveys the city with a mixed expression of distaste and resignation, until he catches something out of the corner of his eye. It’s at this point that he swoops down into an alleyway, breaking up a robbery before it can occur. He knocks one man over as he touches down, shoving his elbow up under another’s chin. If he’s even more violent than normal, the people he’s attacking certainly aren’t in a position to complain. But someone else might be.

Comments

[xuffasch]

Perhaps he senses the change in her temper, perhaps not. But her response is not what he was expecting. He relayed the information as he had found it on the Bat-computers--succinct, factual, and emotionless. But the mention of his father causes his hackles to rise.

"He doesn't tell me anything," Damian snaps, with more force than he intends. "I find out what I need to know on my own."

[gevurah]

"Congrats," she's short and a part of her is making a feeble attempt to remind herself this is a ten year-old child before her. Children don't have a proper grasp on the consequences and harsh reality of death. Unbeknownst to her, she does hope he won't have to find out for a long time.

She exhales, the coffee on table long forgotten. "You were serious about this." If it isn't for the fact it's unnerving information on her, she would be impressed.

[xuffasch]

He blinks at her, surprised. "Of course I was serious." He's never much seen the point in not being serious; the concept of fun is entirely lost on him. So he just tilts his head at her and quirks an eyebrow upwards to form a skeptical expression. "I'm never not so. I'm not a child who goes around playing games and doing nothing important."

[gevurah]

There's brief silence between them, Kate trying to gauge his reaction until she decides he's being serious. That, or he's got lying perfected. But that information on her cannot possibly be here. This is a place people could forge new identities, the Kanes and the Hamilton Rifle Company didn't and couldn't extend into another universe.

"Why not?"

She's curious, so she'll bite. There's something she can't put her finger on with Damian Wayne.

[xuffasch]

Another strange question. This woman seems to be full of them. Damian pauses a moment, deciding what is safe to reveal and what isn't.

"It isn't what I was born to do," he says slowly. "I have a specific purpose, and I don't waste time doing things that don't contribute to it."

[gevurah]

She eyes him warily. "Who told you that? Your father?" But Kate can't imagine Bruce Wayne saying something so cold to his own child. "It's alright to play and have fun."

[xuffasch]

"Why does everyone assume I have to be told things in order to know them?" Damian's tone is snappish, but he's honestly baffled. People can figure things out on their own; or at least, he can. "And besides, he...doesn't tell me much of anything."

[gevurah]

Her irritation subsides fast and is replaced by a pang of sympathy for him. With what he's told her so far about Bruce, it doesn't sound as if they're very close and maybe he's disappointed.

"You know your 'purpose'," skepticism practically drips from every word. "Which is?"

[xuffasch]

"Which is none of your business," Damian says. He purses his lips, annoyed at her tone.

[gevurah]

She holds back from any indication she's tired of this and his snappish attitude. Instead, she recalls the coffee on the table, her fingers wrapping around the cup and sensing it's lukewarm at best now. What a waste, she tells herself.

Besides, she isn't going to spend an entire afternoon arguing with Damian. She picks up her coffee and little brown bag and moves away from the table, turning to face the exit of the bakery.

"Enjoy your lunch," she says.