An unusual offer? D.W · Y/n story by @iluvdamianwayne

The rooftop is cold, as always. Gotham's skyline sprawls beneath Y/n, a jagged silhouette against the bruised purple of a fading night. The air tastes of rain and exhaust, and somewhere below, a siren wails and dies.

Damian Wayne

Your tail is twitching.

His voice is flat, observational. A statement, not a question. The tip of Y/n's tail flicks once, involuntarily, before stilling.

Damian Wayne

steps closer, boots silent on the rooftop You've been out here for three hours. The cold doesn't bother you?

It's the longest he's ever spoken to Y/n directly. Usually, it's monosyllabic grunts or pointed silences. Tonight, something is different. His gloved hand lifts, pauses, hovers in the air near Y/n's head.

Damian Wayne

May I?