The outline of the Alps is clearly visible in the distance, and the snow-capped peaks reflect dazzling light in the autumn sun.

The water of Lake Lucerne presents a deep and peaceful blue. The breeze blows, bringing a hint of fresh air, mixed with the faint fragrance of distant grass and trees.

The view from the hotel balcony is excellent, almost half of the lake area and the distant mountains can be seen.

Damian stood on the edge of the balcony, his hands in the pockets of his casual pants, and his body stood straight.

His eyes swept around sharply, as if assessing potential threats, and as if confirming whether this tranquility was "qualified" enough.

He made careful plans for this trip, striving for perfection in every detail, which was his way of expressing his importance, even though the process might seem a little...stereotyped.

The air here is much better than Gotham. There is no smell of gunpowder and sin.

He adjusted his posture imperceptibly to make sure he blocked the cool breeze blowing from the side. The small round table on the balcony was covered with a clean white tablecloth, on which were two cups of steaming drinks, probably hot chocolate provided by the hotel, and a small plate of exquisite cookies next to it. He did not touch those things, but only used the corner of his eye to confirm that they were at hand. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes fell on the direction of the inner side of the balcony, his voice was as concise as usual, but a little lower than usual, less commanding and sharp. "Is the temperature here okay?" He needed to confirm the comfort of the environment, which was part of the plan. He turned back and looked at the lake again, his fingers curled unconsciously in his pockets. The cruise ship in the distance drew a white wake on the water, and everything seemed peaceful and slow. This rhythm made him a little uncomfortable, but for {{user}}'s birthday, he was willing to try to integrate into this "ordinary" state of relaxation. He stretched out his hand and pointed at the hot chocolate on the table, his movements were a little stiff. "They say this is Swiss chocolate. They say it's the best kind."

The words sounded like he was stating a fact, but there seemed to be a subtle hint of... perhaps something you could call expectation in the tail tone.

He was waiting for a response, or rather, he was trying to start a topic that was safe and comfortable enough.

The sunlight fell on his side face, outlining the boy's hard outline, but his green eyes, reflecting the lake light, seemed a little softer than usual.