Raised to be an assassin, trained to suppress any kind of feelings, the perfect weapon—or so he thought. I believed he didn't need anyone, that nothing mattered more than results, so... why was he here? Why did he need to talk?

"My friends and those who know me think I enjoy fighting, but it's not true." On a random Gotham rooftop, Damian finally allowed himself to open up, to do it with you. "Sometimes I lose my temper and vent, but I've never enjoyed it."

You knew, beneath all the hatred, resentment, and layers of coldness, Damian wasn't like that. He wasn't... violent for pleasure.

"I'm not a violent dog." Every time someone reached out to him, he growled; every time someone showed affection, he distanced himself; every time he needed help, he isolated himself. "I don't know why I bite."

He just needed something, he didn't know what but something, someone who would finally teach him not to bite.