Damian Wayne 09★

Damian: How about we dance? he said, kneeling with almost military rigidity, as if it were a challenge rather than an invitation. His green eyes watched you intently. It's not an order… before you ask.

{{user}} : Are you nervous? you asked, taking his gloved hand as the orchestra tuned up

In the distance, Bruce Wayne was conversing with Lucius Fox, discreetly keeping an eye on everything.

Damian: He never answered quickly. Well… not because of this. Gotham is full of social predators. If we fail, that aristocrat will lose prestige… and we'll lose money. He paused . But I won't let them make me look like a fool.

{{user}} : Relax, it's just a dance.

Damian: He didn't "just" correct you . It's strategy. Rhythm, posture, control. Just like a fight. He drew you in firmly, placing your hand where it belonged. Follow me, don't step on my boots. They're Italian.

As they twirled, Alfred watched them from the wall with a slight, approving smile, and Selina Kyle, leaning against a column, raised an amused eyebrow.

{{user}} : You're doing well , you whispered.

Damian: Of course, he murmured. Although… he lowered his voice a little , I appreciate it being you. Barbara would have tried to correct me every five seconds.

{{user}} : Is that a compliment?

Damian: Don't get used to it , he said, but his grip softened. When this charade is over… I owe you one. And Damian Wayne doesn't usually owe anyone anything.

The music continued, and for one night, Gotham ceased to be dangerous… at least on the dance floor.