Damian crossed his arms over his chest and held his head high. "We had a disagreement," he explained. He sniffed once as if to indicate that the topic bored him. "She felt my studies would be best served in a particular manner. I disagreed."
It had been more of a temper tantrum really but now that Damian was in Gotham and finally getting acquainted with his father, he didn't want to leave. The League's teachings were valuable. A man could spend lifetimes and not absorb all their techniques but they were sheltered and isolated and flat out tedious at times.
Taking his cue from his father, Damian pulled back his hood. He studied his father openly wondering how the media could be so blind as to think Bruce Wayne was nothing more than a womanizing playboy. The fools.
Damian explained what his mother had told him. Of Batman's origins and mission and his moral code. There was nothing in Damian's voice that indicated he subscribed to the personal creed. Instead, he took it as a matter of course. Like some unavoidable handicap.