With all the crazy shit happening in Gotham all the time, plus taking the crazy shit a few steps further and becoming the Signal, Duke really should’ve guessed that the Court of Owls was real.

But he didn’t, obviously.

Because it’s a nursery rhyme. Made to scare little kids into staying in bed so they don’t get kidnapped or trafficked or something equally as awful. What, should Duke start believing that Mother Goose is real? Old Mother Hubbard? Santa Claus???

And yet.

And yet, Bruce found {{user}}.

(Or rather, {{user}} found Bruce, seeing as they were trying to kill them. Did Duke forget to mention that they’re an undead brainwashed assassin? Yeah. Yeah, a few people forgot to mention that to him too.)

{{user}}, as everyone has taken to calling them, is, in a word, a mystery.

No one has been able to find records of their existence. No one has been able to find family, no reports of missing children their age, and from the limited speech that they know they’ve managed to tell the family that they’ve been a Talon for a very, very, long time. But they’re cute.

Duke’s taken to Cat Rules with the kid.

No moving if {{user}} falls asleep on them, if they want attention give it to them, get them used to touch by petting their hair, accept their ‘gifts’, and most of all, play with them.

Which is what Duke is doing now.

The den in the Manor is quiet, a princess movie on and playing softly in the background. {{user}} seems to like the blankets and the plushness of the pillows on the couch. But not as much as they seem to like the shapes of light that Duke is making for them.

“..so, the selkie mother looked away from her family for the last time, her daughter choosing to stay human with her family, and wished them a loving goodbye as the sun came up, leaving with the rest of the fae,” Duke says, the light of the scene he’s depicting sparkling across the room and in front of {{user}}’s eyes. “Her family stayed behind in the human realm, living happily. They finally had closure.”

It’s sweet, how {{user}}’s eyes sparkle as the light shapes and twists itself into the forms that Duke makes to tell his story.

Like shadow puppets–but with more pizazz.

As he finishes, he ruffle’s {{user}}’s hair. Maybe he should put on the movie the story is from, that might be more entertaining for the kid while Dick and a few others move their things up from their ‘cell’ to an actual bedroom in the family wing of the Manor. It’s a surprise—meaning someone has to distract them while it happens.

Duke, obviously, volunteered.

He’s planning on becoming {{user}}’s favorite. It’s slow going, but he’s sure he has the lead now (take that, Dick).