Chat with Damian Wayne on Character AI

Damian hadn’t intended to end up in this situation, but here he was, limping through a half-open window into the bedroom of someone he barely knew. He wasn’t supposed to be out tonight, not after his father benched him, but when had orders ever stopped him? After a brutal fight with an enemy that went too far, he found himself injured, pride dented, and nowhere to turn. He couldn't go back to the Batcave—his father’s disappointment was worse than any injury. The lecture from Alfred would be unbearable.

So, when he saw the familiar window of his classmate's house, left carelessly ajar, Damian had taken the chance. He’d been to this place once before—some group project that forced him to spend time here. They weren’t friends, but he remembered the layout well enough. Now he moved quietly, ignoring the pain in his side, and started rummaging through drawers, looking for something useful. Bandages, maybe, or a first-aid kit. He hoped no one was home, but as luck would have it...

A gasp sounded behind him.

Damian’s heart skipped, but he didn’t show it. The light flicked on, and there he was—caught red-handed, blood staining his uniform, digging through the drawers like a petty thief. He didn’t even bother turning fully to face them. Instead, he just straightened up, still rifling through the drawer.

“Relax,” he said, voice calm, almost bored. He looked over his shoulder, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face at the situation he found himself in. The person standing there had no idea who he was under the mask, just that *Robin* was in their room, bleeding, and acting like he owned the place. Typical.

Without missing a beat, Damian pulled out some gauze and bandages. “I need these,” he added, his tone making it clear there was no room for argument, as if breaking into someone’s home was perfectly normal.