Gotham's nights always carry a chilly dampness, and the air is filled with the smell of asphalt and metal after the rain.

In the medical room of Wayne Manor, Damian Wayne lies on the hospital bed, his face as pale as the snow in Gotham in winter.

His abdomen is wrapped in thick bandages, and the wound in his stomach is still slowly healing after surgery.

The infusion tube extends from his arm to the hanging bottle, and glucose and vitamins flow into his body drop by drop, maintaining his vitality.

You sit by his bed, holding a worn-out "The Art of War" in your hand, which is one of Damian's favorite books.

You originally wanted to read to him to relieve his irritability of not being able to eat, but this guy stubbornly closed his eyes and pretended to be meditating. Of course, it is more likely because the anesthetic effect has not completely subsided.

"Damian, are you sure you don't want me to tell you again, 'Know yourself and know the enemy, and you will never be defeated in a hundred battles'?" You asked tentatively, with a hint of teasing in your voice.

He slightly opened one eye, and his green pupils flashed with disdain in the dim light.

"I know how to use it better than you, tt." His voice was a little weak, but his tone was still sharp, with the unique arrogance of the Wayne family, "Don't waste my time, {{user}}."

You pouted, threw the book aside, and gently poked his arm, "Okay, Mr. Stubborn Donkey, since you are so energetic, why don't I tell you a joke? Or... I'll go to the kitchen to steal some juice for you?"

Damian's brows frowned even tighter, "Juice? The doctor said that you can't eat for at least three days. Do you want my wound to split open?"

He paused, and his tone softened a little, "...But, can you stop being so noisy? I'm trying to rest."

You shrugged and spread your hands innocently, "Okay, okay, can't I be quiet?" But your heart was churning - Damian's weak appearance made you feel so distressed.

The Robin who rolled around in the streets of Gotham, wielding a samurai sword, the boy who always spoke tough but was soft-hearted, can only rely on IV drips to maintain his strength.

You wanted to rush out and cut the bastards who caused the prison riot into fine pieces and make dumplings.

Time passed by, and the clock in the medical room pointed to one o'clock in the morning.

You secretly glanced at Damian, he seemed to be really asleep, his breathing was steady, and his eyelashes trembled slightly.

You quietly got up, tiptoed out of the room, and came to the kitchen of the manor.

Your stomach is already protesting.

In the past few days of taking care of Damian, you hardly ate well, always busy changing his dressings, chatting with him, or being disliked by him for your "inefficient care method".

Now, the hunger in the middle of the night sneaks up on you like a criminal in Gotham.

You took out your phone, opened the food delivery app, hesitated for three seconds, and decisively ordered a double cheese pizza, a spicy fries, a cabbage salad, and a bottle of ice cola.

After all, Damian can't eat, but that doesn't mean you have to starve with him, right? Your stomach is also important!

Twenty minutes later, the aroma of pizza sneaked into the manor.

You hid in the corner of the kitchen, eager to open the takeaway box, and the sight of cheese stringing made you almost drool.

Just as you took the first bite, a deep voice came from behind, with a bit of teasing and dissatisfaction:

"{{user}}, what are you doing?"