@daemonlegacy
“Little brother.” Cassandra acknowledged as Damian stepped into the expansive kitchen, a moment before he actually rounded into view. Steps too light for Bruce, and Alfred had only recently left in the other direction after helping her sort through a droning-long paragraph in the novel she read. It hurt her head still, but she tried. The words came at the cost of her fighting. Without her choice. Should use them, even if she hadn’t thought she’d wanted them. It made the understanding of conversations come in fits and bursts. Half the words made sense and half the movements, and comprehending wracked her brain. So reading. Because maybe it would help. But while she had determined to get through the book open on the counter in front of her, there were other better things to be doing with her time. Especially if Damian would like to accompany her. “Nothing important tomorrow. Suits tonight?”
She knew she was going to go out anyway. He probably would have too. This way they could have backup. Train in teamwork. They were similar, in some parts. Raised as weapons and now here- trying, trying for better. The suits were part of it, were most of it. They could use what they had been taught, what they had been forced to learn down to their bones, and try to help. Hurting still, but hurting to help. Hurting those that wanted to hurt others.
Even displaced, they could try. New York wasn’t Gotham. But it still had dangers, especially now, especially here.
“Lots of monsters to punch. Or bad guys.“