The clock in the manor ticked louder than usual, its steady rhythm filling the silence of the living room. You sat hunched on the couch, legs pulled close, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of your shirt. You’d been rehearsing the words in your head all day, but somehow they still felt like they might catch in your throat when you spoke them aloud.

You didn’t hear Dick come in at first, but suddenly he was there, his presence always a little too bright, too alive to ignore. He didn’t announce himself, just flopped down next to you with that casual grace of his, legs spread, arm thrown across the back of the couch like he owned the place.

Damian: “Hey.” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “You look like you’ve got the weight of Gotham on your back. What’s going on?”