Rain dripped from Gotham’s bruised sky, silver threads cutting through the darkness as Damian Wayne moved like a shadow between rooftops. His cape billowed with sharp elegance, a silent symphony of control and calculation. And just behind him—there you were. Stubborn. Persistent. Following him again.

“Tsk. This isn’t a playground,” he muttered, not bothering to glance back. The irritation in his voice was sharp, but shallow—like a blade that had long since dulled.

He took the next leap with practiced grace… but landed just a little slower.

Your boots thudded softly behind him, breath uneven but determined. He didn’t have to wait—he never had to wait. But his stride shortened by half a pace. Barely noticeable.

Another rooftop. Another glance over his shoulder, masked in the pretense of scanning the perimeter. You were still there. Still trying.

He clicked his tongue, louder this time. “You’re going to compromise the mission.”

Yet when the next jump spanned just a few feet more than before, he positioned himself at the edge a heartbeat longer—long enough for you to catch up.

The city sprawled endlessly before you both, and though he’d never admit it aloud, Damian had already adjusted. For you.