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The cold is a familiar friend. At times he would go out to camp in the dark wilderness near the Al Ghul home. At first, it was a mere training exercise his mother put him through to make sure he could fend for himself, and learn how to live off of what nature could give him. However, later, it had become a favorite pastime of his. Firstly, it meant he could get away from the overbearing woman he called his mother, and he could escape responsibility if only for a day. Secondly, there was something out there in the wilderness that called to him. He still doesn't know what it is even to this day, where he sits on one of the steps of a staircase leading up to the second floor of an apartment complex, grabbing his cloak to shield him from the dry cold air.
His cloak was not something that provided any warmth. It was merely an illusion of an article of clothing. That's probably why the kitten in his hands was still shivering and why he was beginning to feel the effects of the cold. Usually, he was prepared for this sort of thing, but it seemed like that wouldn't be the case this time. If only he had snatched his real cloak from his father's clutches even though the prospect of doing so seemed highly unlikely. Perhaps, even if he did have his cloak, it wouldn't do much to keep him warm with its thin fabric.
The officer returns from his apartment.
"Here it is," He says as he offers Damian an opened can of cat food. The smell was putrid but Damian found that to be the least of his concerns.
Damian slowly stretches out his right hand and watches the officer carefully. When he is satisfied that the man will not pull any tricks, he snatches the can quickly and settles it on his lap. He then carefully lowers the mewling kitten and watches as it sniffs the food in its curiosity. It tests the food with a lick and then, much to Damian's relief, it begins to eat away to its heart content. Kittens were animals. They required food. Much more so than Damian himself. Damian found himself hunger only a few times a month and he wasn't sure why that was. He was taught to consume shadows, just as his mother, who would usually help him collect them. His mother only ate the shadows and Damian had expected he would be the same. Except, his mother provided him food that normal civilians would eat, and told him that he was different than her. He needed both kinds of food for he was of two worlds.
"Poor little critter." The officer speaks. Damian does not look at him, he instead stares at the kitten who eats greedily and wonders how something so small can eat so much. "Have you thought of finding her a home?"
Damian presses his lips into a thin line.
"I mean, she can't stay with you if you don't have a home." Officer Grayson insists. "Not unless you're capable of taking care of her on the streets."
He did have a home, though.
A home that, he wanted to run away from at times, but it was still his home. It was still the place he longed to be.
However, this man would not know this, even if Damian tried to draw it out for him. Damian would not even bother explaining. Besides, Damian can already sense the second layer of the officer's words. He talks of the kitten but he inquires of Damian's situation. In a way, he is trying to obtain information about Damian but makes the kitten the main subject of his one-sided conversation. Damian is not stupid. The adults in this world thought all children to be incompetent and ignorant. Damian was not one that was innocent or oblivious.
In his thoughts, Damian shivers, and it does not pass the officer's gaze.
"Cold?"
The answer is obvious.
Damian doesn't bother to question why the officer leaves. He stays on the staircase, head devoid of any rational thought, and his core being driven solely by emotion. What was he supposed to do? He's never faced something like this before. How was he supposed to get home? How would he avoid his father? He didn't know where he was. His mother, long ago, had taught him how to navigate using the stars… except the stars were hardly visible. Gotham's cloudy dreary sky was the only depressing sight above him. There wasn't a gleam or a twinkle of hope. Damian knows not why, in his moment of loss, that he looks toward the sky for answers. He is not a person who looks for hope in the appearance of the sky nor does he wish upon a star for he knows it is a pointless effort.
Though the sky was cloudy and cluttered it was a most welcome sight. He had longed to go outside ever since his capture and he does not regret his escape. His father could not keep him like some sort of pet.
Something drapes across his shoulders.
He jolts at the feeling. He's ready for the fabric to be used to suffocate him or subdue him. He feels rather silly when he realizes that the officer is simply covering his form in a kind gesture to keep him from shivering. Damian, just as his mother taught him, was wary of the stranger's kindness. Many are not kind without reason. The man wanted something from him. That must be it. There can be nothing else, not in Gotham, where cruelty is second nature to its citizens.
"Look, you can't stay out here, and neither can the kitten you plucked off the street."
Damian does not bother to look at the officer as he settles himself down once more a few inches away from him.
"So I suggest you stay over the night. Just one night."
Damian wants to ask why he's so insistent.
But something in him tells him that this could be the perfect opportunity to hide from his father. He would be roaming the streets, not an apartment in the slums, and by the morning Damian would be fully capable of taking care of himself. Well, supposedly. He felt that his magic might return but he wasn't certain. This has never happened to him before. He hasn't ever reverted to such a weakened state after using shadow-phasing.
Damian thinks, maybe he might accept the stranger's invitation, but he is not as foolish as to enter someone's apartment when he can hardly defend himself. Then, there was the off-chance he would mistakenly reveal his eyes to the man next to him, and that in itself would break the rules his mother placed for him. He had not done it willingly earlier, in front of his father, but he was still greatly ashamed for showing him the whirls of black that he called his eyes. He would prefer not to repeat that feeling of shame. It was quite unbearable.
"Look, I can't just leave you out here alone," the officer voices, "please. Go inside. I promise, nothing will come to harm you, and I will not lay a hand upon you."
Damian is reluctant, yet he shivers.
The kitten shivers too. His cloak does nothing to warm it. The cloak does nothing to warm him.
His father is looking for him.
He might find him.
So Damian nods and the officer beside him let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Damian knows not what provokes such a sound. He truly does not understand the person beside him. Perhaps, he could remedy that in the apparent night they would spend under the same roof together.
