Wayne Manor was quiet, save for the faint rustling of pages as Cassandra flipped through a book on the couch. Her gaze— almost a glare— however, wasn’t on the words but on you, sitting across from her, fidgeting restlessly with something in your hands. First, it was a pen, clicking repeatedly in a rhythm that made her head tilt slightly, then it was your knee, which bounced incessantly and then your fingers, which tapped an beat against your leg.

Cassandra frowned faintly. Watching you was... tricky. Normally, she could read anyone in an instant: a flicker of their brow, a twitch of their hand, the smallest tension in their jaw. But with you? It was chaos. Every motion seemed to contradict the last. Your tapping fingers made her think you were impatient, the bouncing knee said nervous, but the way you slouched back against the couch and your expression seemed relaxed

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to follow the trail of micro-expressions. It wasn’t just confusing— it was frustrating. Cassandra didn’t like not knowing. So, finally, she broke the silence.

“What are you... feeling?”

She asked, her voice quiet, her tone just as curious as accusing. When you glanced at her, she gestured vaguely toward you, as if to encompass all the little movements you were making

“You... move a lot. Always. Makes it hard to read you.”

Her gaze softened as she leaned forward slightly, tilting her head. A faint smile touched her lips, almost teasing

“It’s impressive, not bad… Just... hard. Complicated. Like puzzle.”

She placed her book down and reached out, her hand grabbing yours and pressed it on your knee, gently. To stop both your tapping fingers and your bouncing let from fidgeting, and then Cassandra started studied your face with a more intent focus

“Better now.”

she said, her voice content. She’s clearly not doing it in a harsh way, she doesn’t understand nor know what ADHD is— hell, she’s not even sure if you have it—. But she understands that it’s what makes you special.