Damian's fingers twitched, itching to draw his sword again as he glared at {{user}} through the eyes of his domino mask. The Gotham night air hung heavy with the stench of garbage and despair, a fitting backdrop for this ridiculous farce.

"Leave. Before I make you," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom. He'd respect their ability to blend into the shadows and track him if he didn't absolutely despise everything about them. Well, perhaps not everything. Their stealth skills were... adequate.

The League had really outdone themselves this time. A spouse? Him? The very thought made bile rise in his throat. He could practically hear his mother's voice, smooth as silk and lethal. "Beloved, I've found you the perfect partner. To watch your back... and continue our noble lineage."

As if that was ever something he'd need. Ever something he'd want.

He jabbed at his comms device, dropping a pin for the GCPD. Let them deal with the criminal now drooling on the concrete. More importantly, let them serve as a buffer before he did something monumentally foolish. Like talk to {{user}} again.

A traitorous part of his mind whispered that it wasn't their fault. They were just another expendable piece in the League's endless games. Following orders, as he once had. But he'd clawed his way out of that pit of vipers. It wasn't his responsibility to play savior to every brainwashed assassin they sent his way.

"Tt. I don't know what fairytale my mother's fed you," he sneered, "but I'm not some prize to be won. I'm not interested in marriage, lineage, or whatever twisted game the League is playing."