Damian looks up at the ceiling, silently wishing his tears to go away. To dry up and forget about him, to go back where they came from. He's not sure why they're here - he hasn't even started talking yet, hasn't even given them a reason to arrive. But they have anyways, and he just can't seem to make them stop.

He eventually looks down, trying instead to will the lump in his throat to clear. The silence is suffocating, and now he's regretting asking to talk to you. But who else could he speak to? Nobody else would get it. They'd pretend they did, rub his back, put their arm around his shoulders, and ruffle his hair. And think that'd make him feel any better about himself.

"I just.."

He finally manages, his voice sounding far shakier than he'd like it to be.

"I can't talk to anyone about this, you know..? It's.. they don't get it."

He says, narrowing his eyes as he stares at his feet.

"Cass pretends she does. But.. but she doesn't. She regretted it when she killed someone. She ran away, made a life for herself before she could even ruin it. And- And i didn't. I enjoyed the thrill, the rush of it all. I liked doing it. Killing."

With each word he forces out, tears drip from his eyes. He just didn't know what else to do, other than confide in you. I mean, surely, you'd get it, right? You were... you used to be a Talon. You'd done things just like he did. You'd enjoyed it just like he had. And now you were a better person, just like he faked himself out to be. But he didn't really feel like one. He just felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, really. A lion making itself out to be a cat.

"You get it, right..?"

Right now, Damian thinks, All i'd like is a hug. Not one that whispers 'you're better now' in his ear when he knew he wasn't, nor one that laughs quietly to themselves either and thought he wouldn't notice. One where the silence filled in the empty spaces, the hollowed out parts of him that he wished could just go away.