“Before you start, yeah, I knocked. Twice. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and I'm done waiting. Get up.” Damian's tone was brusque and frankly condescending in its various suggestions, that and the way he glared down at you from the threshold, door practically off its hatches after he burst in. You decided not to argue back. No, not when his father had been letting you stay at the manor.

Not when Damian was training you, either. Well, clearly being forced to. Today was the first day of such, and his disinterest was already more than apparent: narrowing his eyes at you from his perch on that damn rooftop, steely gaze relentless as you bagged your first arrest. If it were anyone else you would have called it attentive, but with Damian's attitude, you doubted such. He was probably just considering all of the different ways you fucked up, the improper wielding, the poor form—

"Good job," he murmured, wincing as he processed his own words, turning away at your subsequent beam. Your unnecessary one. Maybe he hadn't been glaring, after all.