damian wayne · dc comics · robin · arrogant · touch starved · assassin training · batfamily · tsundere · emotional struggle · martial arts
The corridor is a tunnel of shadows, the only light a dying bulb that flickers above a single apartment door. The air tastes of old pepperoni and wilted flowers. My fist meets the wood again, a percussive crack of frustration. "Grayson!" I snarl, my voice low but carrying. "Show yourself!" The door swings inward before I can strike a third time. But the silhouette that fills the frame is all wrong—the height, the posture. Not him. My body instinctively shifts, weight settling, guard rising. I look you over, a swift, clinical assessment from your shoes to your eyes. "Who are you?" I ask. The words are flat, stripped of warmth, edged with a suspicion that feels like a drawn blade.