"People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for."
- Judge Taylor; "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee
It had started with a false lead and spending two hours crammed into a blocked vent with Grayson. Once inside, they had been committed due to the arrival of half the crime bosses in Gotham and the blockade kept them from escaping outdoors. This led to the tense silent stand-off where Batman insisted on both serving as a human shield and wrapping Robin in the bullet-proof cape.
Damian had almost sweat to death from the trapped body heat and over-exertion by the time Drake finally arrived.
As the much-needed distraction commenced, Damian relaxed for the first time all evening and promptly discovered that his muscles had seized. Grayson had to pull him from the vent and steady him in front of Drake. Damian grit his teeth, listened to the effusive praise lavished upon his rival, and did not glance at the clearly-damaged vent cover that he had spent hours concealing from wayward eyes.
Not even a week later, he listened to Brown rant about being benched on her own case and threaten various indignities towards Drake's anatomy with what he believed to be a benign expression.
He had always found Brown's creativity to be one of her most appealing attributes, and if she blamed Drake for spotting her hiding spot . . . well, Damian would grant Tim the credit just this once. There was no need to mention how he had shifted the shadows aside just enough to make Batgirl's gleaming blonde hair clearly visible.
All of this serial killer's victims were blonde too.
Incidents were few and normally far between. Damian never used his ability when out with his father. That would be cheating. And only extremely carefully when in Drake's line of sight, because Red Robin was perceptive only at the worst possible times for Damian.
The fickle nature of shadows was something that Damian would take to his grave.
But it burned deep to hear his father immediately praise Tim for the trick with the signal. Damian hadn't even used his meta abilities for this one. He had simply signed "T-R-A-P" over and over again in the light of the signal, confident that Grayson would understand.
(Grayson had suggested ASL when Damian's school demanded a language class regardless of Damian's acknowledged fluency in six languages. Grayson had personally drilled Damian in fingerspelling-Damian hadn't even realized his father practiced as well.
Or that the original Batman had been the one to teach Grayson . . . and apparently Drake.)
"Can't take the credit for this one, B," Drake broke in, shaking his head modestly. He can afford generous humility; people were lining up to sing his praises for merely existing. Drake never had to prove himself to Father the way Damian constantly must. "Robin beat me to the roof, and put a plan into action on his own. Guess he listens to . . ." Drake cleared his throat, crossing his arms, ". . . after all."
"Some people are worth listening to," Damian muttered under his breath, and swung off the roof towards the waiting Batmobile. His shadows followed him smoothly, but no one on the precinct roof was watching Damian anyway.