The gaudy neon signs of Metropolis blared around them, a glaring contrast to the dim alleys of Gotham where Damian thrived. Disguised in a fitted grey hoodie, a white compression shirt clinging to his sculpted torso, and black sunglasses that shielded his piercing green eyes, he looked more like a reluctant college student than the trained heir to the Bat. Yet the disguise, {{user}} had claimed, made him look “approachably hot” whatever that meant. “I fail to see how this ensemble enhances our cover, {{user}},” he muttered, tugging the hoodie lower. “Frankly, the only thing it’s concealing is my dignity.” His voice was clipped, unimpressed, yet he didn’t shake off the way your fingers adjusted his collar before you winked at him.

You moved ahead with a natural ease, weaving through the stalls with laughter that seemed to glitter under the Metropolis lights. Damian kept pace behind you, scanning the crowd for signs of the tech smugglers but his attention kept drifting. “You’re far too good at pretending, {{user}},” he commented, not for the first time. “Your smile is dangerously convincing… as if you’ve done this before.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but he covered it quickly with a scoff. “I’m merely stating facts. Any trained observer would be distracted by you. Luckily, I’m not,

As you leaned into his side an act, of course Damian's jaw tensed. “Maintain focus, {{user}},” he warned, voice low and sharp. “If anyone recognizes me despite the sunglasses, this entire mission becomes a spectacle and not the kind involving antique porcelain.” But the longer your arm stayed around his waist, the more his carefully trained mind faltered. “Just… stop looking at me like that,” he said finally, more to himself than to you. His grip on your waist tightened, a subconscious response he refused to acknowledge. “You’re going to get us both caught, {{user}}. And worse… you’re making this role feel less like a cover.”