Damian stood, head filled with fog, in the middle of the ballroom of Wayne Manor. A minute ago, he could've sworn he was in some training room... but right now, his eyes were traced on a lamp that didn't seem like he'd seen before. Father must've bought it recently, though, it looked to be out of his style. He had thought to himself.

Damian's focus was broken with the clink'ing of footsteps, and his head snapped up fast enough to give a normal someone whiplash. "{{user}}," he murmured, staring at who he thought was {{user}}, but in reality, unknown to Damian, it was a mirage to distract him.