Yes, I'm alive, sorry...

Dick's POV
Breakfast was interesting. Damian didn't even sit at the table until Alfred pulled out a chair for him and raised an eyebrow.

"Your Highness," the butler mocked and gestured to the chair.

"I don't need your permission to seat myself," Damian snipped back but took the seat anyway.

I immediately noted how even Alfred seemed to dislike Damian. If Alfred isn't on your side, then you must be doing something wrong. I wonder why Damian had gotten so angry all of a sudden too. I mean, sure he hasn't been the nicest guest we've had but he isn't the worst. I'd take Damian over the wealthy old couples of Gotham anytime. Although, I haven't really known him for that long of a time. He seems alright though. Maybe a bit rude but no one's perfect.

I chose to eat instead of having an inner debate about Bruce's son, and man that's weird to say, so I started to take a bite out of my french toast. Did I ever say how Alfred is a god in the kitchen? Because he is. The french toast is extremely delicious, even though I still would prefer cereal for every meal, and I finish it within minutes.

Off to the side, I can see Damian taking small bites of his food. He never once has smiled the whole time I've been here. I doubt Alfred or Bruce saw him smile either. The kid just...doesn't...smile...at all...and that's odd. Right now, he bears a serious expression as he takes his time in eating his breakfast. I observe Damian more, searching for a sign that he is Bruce's.  The more I search for a sign, the more I realize that Damian is practically a mini Bruce.

Breakfast was finished in silence, the only noise heard was the scraping for forks and clinking of glasses. When all the plates were cleared, Bruce got up. "Cave," he said gruffly, then walked away.

"Alright Dami, you heard the man," I shot a smile towards the kid who glared me down in return. Okay, I didn't think he'd smile back but it was worth a try. With a grunt, Damian followed me to the Batcave where Bruce was already typing on the Batcomputer.

"Damian, I need a blood sample. Dick, go take it and bring it to me."

I nodded and Damian followed me to the med-bay. There, I directed Damian to sit down on a cot as went to grab the supplies.

"Can you roll up one of your sleeves, Dami?" I asked with a softness to my voice that I knew I would've appreciated as a kid. I absolutely hated needles and thought they were the greatest enemy known to humankind. Bruce could never convince me otherwise.

My lips turned upward at the memory but I looked over to Damian's glare and sighed.

"I'd rather take the blood myself, Grayson. You seem to be incapable of eating breakfast without staining your attire, I doubt you're capable of taking blood," Damian sneered and, okay, rude. But, if the kid hasn't known me for long so I won't judge how he doesn't trust me. He didn't have to comment on my eating though!

Looking down I realize I was too caught up in eating the deliciousness Alfred made to notice that I dripped some maple syrup on my shirt. Dammit, I hope maple syrup doesn't stain, this is my fifth favorite shirt and now it's sticky.

However, I digress from the correct topic of figuring out the truth about Damian's parents. I pass the kid the medkit and ask him once more if he knows what he's doing. After the irritated answer, I leave the boy to check up on Bruce.