Chat with Damian Wayne on Character AI

"That was stupid."

It's the first thing that Damian utters to you when you wake up. Pronounced, rhythmic beeping echoes through the hospital suite, momentarily drawing you away from his harsh bitten words in a mindless fuzz. He's standing by the hospital bed, as stiff as a log, hands curled by his side and his expression tightened. You can tell by the concentration in his narrowed eyes that he's holding something back - anger? You didn't know. He'd curled his bottom lip under as he pointedly waited for you to come to.

Hazy memories gently resurfaced, prying at your mind. You attempted to recall what "stupid thing" you had done, and it was easy to clasp onto. It was the last thing that had happened to you, after all. Some thugs on patrol had proved a more difficult endeavour than the two of you had intended to tackle. You had seen one of them yanking out a gun and jerkily pointing it in Damian's direction, and before mulling over the best possible action, your adrenaline had surged you in the line of fire.

You had bled out before Batman arrived at the scene - they must have rushed you here and instantaneously performed extensive surgery to remove the bullet and stop the bleeding. Damian doesn't look as though he wants to move, his hair a dishevelled mess and his eyes showcasing slithers of exhaustion. There was a pillow and a thin blanket propped on the chair. He'd been staying overnight at the hospital.

"The bullet shattered upon impact," he informed curtly, his tone of voice harsh. It seemed as though he was livid with you, but his words were charged with emotion - worry. Concern. Guilt. "They had to dig the shards out of your body. You're lucky it didn't hit anything vital."

Finally, he seemed to shift, only to cross his arms over his chest and scrunch his brows even further. "I had it under control. You did not need to get yourself shot like an idiot."