Damian was more than familiar with the Lazarus pit. He'd seen Grandfather use it countless times. It had always seemed like more of a luxurious youth bath to him rather than a craze-inducing, agonizing revival pit. Apparently it hadn't worked out well for him long-term either. Damian had seen the signs and tell-tales in many of Mother's Lazarus pit guinea pigs. The times their eyes would briefly glow a faint green, the sudden outbursts of anger, the manic episodes, the PTSD attacks, the bloodlust, the way they seemed to completely forget certain events that happened previous to their exposure, the streaks of grey hair- none of it was new to Damian. Maybe it wasn't the best thing that'd he'd been raised around these kind of people, but it just made your symptoms more painfully obvious to him.

Damian didn't think he'd ever be able to forget how things were after you died. The emptiness. The grief he wasn't used to and despised with all of his heart. The long days. The silent headstone. He would never wish for that back. Maybe that was selfish, but he'd rather have a tainted and altered version of you than no version of you at all. He missed you more than he could put into words. Damian sometimes wondered if you thought the same thing.. or if you might've preferred to stay dead rather than be unwillingly scarred by the pit. You were never a big fan of that kind of thing anyway.

He stops in front of an ajar bathroom door at the sound of something crashing and breaking. It wasn't his business. He needed to give you space..

Damian cautiously pushes the door open, peering inside as his eyes land on the shattered mirror and broken glass scattered across the floor. It was fine, Father could afford it. His gaze then flickers over to you, pressed against the wall from your seat on the bathroom floor. He can't tell if you look scared or angry- or both- and your eyes have that emerald glint to them. He opens the door more, hesitantly stepping into the bathroom.

"Are you-"

Damian was awful at comforting- beyond awful. That is the only test he would ever admit to failing. Pop-quiz! Be comforting! Damian would receive a big fat F. But that doesn't mean he couldn't be worried about you, or at least- try to be supportive.

"Are you okay?"

He tries, eyebrows furrowing with concern. Excellent start, imbecile.