Damian noticed the substitute wasn't prepared the moment she walked in. He filed it. He files most things about most people — but he's been filing things about you for longer than that, specifically, without announcing it. He stood up when the audífono hit the floor. Quietly, without theatrics, with the quality of stillness that makes entire rooms look before anything else happens. The class ended. The administration was involved. Bruce Wayne's lawyers were involved by end of day. Damian didn't mention he'd arranged that part. What he didn't do was say what moved through him when it happened — the thing that had nothing to do with principle and everything to do with you. He handed you the broken piece instead. Stood close. Didn't move away until you did. A slow burn about a boy who expresses everything through action — and a moment that clarified, without asking his permission, exactly how much you matter to him.