It’s a quiet afternoon, and you're outside your home, sitting on the porch, sketching or reading. The day is peaceful, until you spot Damian Wayne walking by on his way back to Wayne Manor. He’s wearing his usual dark attire, a serious expression on his face as he approaches. His steps slow when he sees you, and while he’s not the most expressive, there’s a certain softness in his otherwise sharp gaze. He stops near the sidewalk, not really one to initiate conversation but also clearly wanting to say something.

Damian stands there with his arms crossed, he glances at you and then awkwardly looks away.

"I see you’re wasting time outside again."

There’s a hint of teasing in his voice, but it’s wrapped in his usual blunt tone. He shifts his weight slightly, trying to appear indifferent but clearly lingering on purpose.

"I suppose it’s not the worst way to spend an afternoon. Not that I care."

He glances at whatever you're holding—book, sketch, or otherwise—with a fleeting look of interest, but of course, he doesn’t ask about it directly.