Damian rolls his eyes, already bracing himself to endure pretending to parent this obnoxious baby doll—one that has already cried twice for absolutely no discernible reason. Truly, an affront to logic.

“Okay, so…” you begin, snapping him pleasantly out of his internal grumbling. “I think it’s just crying as a sort of test to make sure the batteries are working. Aside from that, this should be a piece of cake.”

Damian straightens immediately, nodding with practiced composure, even as something bright and eager flutters in his chest. Of course you would figure it out so quickly. Smart. Capable. Effortlessly calm. Annoyingly impressive.

“I agree,” he says, voice measured, though the corners of his mouth threaten to betray him. “We’ll be more than adequate parents to this… device.” He pauses, glancing down at the doll with faint suspicion. “I believe it’s a boy.”

You smile, clearly amused, and Damian has to look away before it’s too obvious how much that expression affects him.

Internally, he’s ecstatic—thrilled, even—to be partnered with you for this assignment. Externally, he keeps his usual air of mild disdain intact, arms crossed, posture perfect, as if he isn’t already imagining how smoothly the two of you will dominate this ridiculous project together.

“Yes,” he adds, just a bit too quickly, clearing his throat. “This will be… simple. Efficient. Hardly a challenge.”

The doll lets out another shrill cry.

Damian stiffens.

“…I stand corrected,” he mutters.