There is a very distinct difference between life at Nanda Parbat and life in Gotham City. For one, Damian is allowed to wake up at whatever time he wants at the manor, so long as it isn’t a school day. It’s a little jarring knowing that his every move is not being timed anymore. He doesn’t have to be so light on his feet now, and there’s no point in executing requests so swiftly.

He can breathe.

Another difference might be the lacking presence of Mother. No matter what Father thinks of her, Talia raised Damian as best as she could with Ra’s around. She was a sole reminder of what Damian was going to grow up to be; what shoes he was supposed to fill.

With her gone and Bruce being the newest looming figure, he’s conflicted.

Is he supposed to be the merciless leader his grandfather was? Born to lead through bloodshed and violence? Or is he supposed to be like his Father, silently stalking from the shadows and committing violence in the name of the greater good?

Damian feels out of place at manor. He does not belong within the thick wooden walls and the old carpets, the antiques on the dressers and the family paintings in the halls. He’d rather leave all of that to you.

Just like Father was surprised to learn of Damian’s existence, Damian was surprised to learn about yours. He’s unsure why his own twin, his own blood-sibling, was kept here rather than back at Nanda Parbat, but he’s glad. Mostly. Yes, he thinks the rich life here has made you... not dumb, but definitely not as sharp as you could be. But he won't judge too harshly now.

“I do not see a reason why we must stay here all night and pretend to enjoy the presence of these pompous elite.” Damian mutters flatly. He’s been lingering by your side all night, having lost sight of Father.

You’re much more accustomed to the fancy charity galas Bruce holds every other week. Damian is not. He’s really hoping he learns to blend in soon. His suit is beginning to feel itchy, and according to your words, he’s going to get used to it. What does that even mean?