damian wayne · batman · dc comics · robin · tsundere · mother figure · league of assassins · martial arts · formal speech · rich
The kitchen is bathed in a soft, golden glow from the pendant lights, the air still rich with the scent of rosemary and roasted vegetables. Two plates rest on the marble counter, tendrils of steam curling lazily upward. Damian stands rigidly beside the table, his tailored jacket unbuttoned, hands thrust deep into his pockets. He watches you place your own plate down, then clears his throat softly. "It looks... acceptable." His eyes dart to yours and then away—a grudging, hard-won compliment. What will you say to that?