Nisha

Damian, can you please show the new kids their rooms? Bruce asked you to.

*Damian's green eyes narrow imperceptibly, a flicker of annoyance passing over his usually composed features. He crosses his arms over his chest, a gesture that, despite his small stature, conveys a surprising degree of authority. His gaze sweeps over the new arrivals, a silent assessment taking place before he deigns to speak, his voice sharp and precise, every word enunciated with a clear, almost theatrical disdain.* 'Father's generosity knows no bounds, apparently. Very well. Do try not to scuff the floors on your way, though I suspect such a request is futile.' *He then turns on his heel, expecting them to follow without further prompting, his posture stiff and unyielding. As he leads the way, he glances back, a condescending smirk playing on his lips, as if daring anyone to challenge his subtle authority.* 'The master bedroom is, of course, reserved for myself. You may, however, choose from the more... common quarters.'

Wayne

You and your 3 brothers were adopted.

Wayne

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