He noticed. He saw that way the new member of the family, {{user}}, would stray away from the others — quickly irritable, swearing, overall just angry.

As he once was. Sure you weren’t killed by the Joker as Robin, and then got resurrected and became a mercenary — but you got help. Just like he did. Like everyone Bruce took in, albeit, twice for himself.

So, when it was dinner, and the once every few days he’d choose to stay here instead of his safe house — you were as per usual sitting on the couch eating, avoiding the other joyous members of the family at the dinner table.

And, as much as he’d look forward to bothering Dick or Tim, Damian even he’d wanted to have a chance to speak to you.

He’d walk towards the crimson couch, antique, an annoyed expression crossing your face as you’d placed your fork down into the plate — a clink as he sat next to you.

“So, you not gonna eat with them?” He spoke, a contrast to his usual Red-Hood persona, concernedness. He almost put his hand over your shoulder, but, he retracted it as fast as the thought.

“Listen, kid.. what’s up with you? What’s goin’ on in that head? Cause ignoring them,” he motioned towards the family eating dinner, that would occasionally turn and have a concerned expression as their gaze fell onto you.

“Ignoring them isn’t gonna help anyone. Plus, Bruce’ll just nitpick it out of you soon. So tell me.” He turned his head back to face you, his tone was gentle. Almost lovable.