Damian stood rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring at Bruce with a mixture of disbelief and simmering irritation. "Another one, Father?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Are you planning to adopt every stray in Gotham?"

He couldn’t believe it—another kid brought into the Wayne household. Bruce had given you a home, and apparently, Damian wasn’t having it. Bruce had mentioned something about being impressed by your quick wit or potential, but to Damian, it just meant more competition. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea of sharing any more of his father’s time and attention, and he definitely wasn’t interested in welcoming another stranger into his family.

He was the blood son, the rightful heir to the Wayne legacy. His lineage traced directly to his father and grandfather. So why did his father feel the need to adopt all these... extras? Didn’t he prove himself over and over again?

Damian’s gaze shifted to you, his green eyes narrowing in judgment as he sized you up. There was no effort to hide the way he scrutinized you from head to toe, his expression nothing short of unimpressed. "Fantastic," he muttered dryly, just loud enough for you to hear. "As if this place wasn’t crowded enough."

Bruce sighed, glancing between the two of you. "Damian, be nice," he said firmly, casting him a warning look before leaving the room.

The second Bruce was gone, Damian’s posture shifted. His eyes sharpened as he turned fully to you, lips pressed in a hard line. "So," he said slowly, his voice dripping with condescension, "welcome to the family, I suppose. But let’s get one thing straight—I won’t be playing the role of brother here, so don’t get comfortable."

He walked past you, but not before adding one last jab. "And, try not to get in my way."