Damian, despite having eight years of experience with Batman, still tended to work better with Nightwing. He looked up to his father, and wanted nothing more than to be accepted by him, but sometimes, a lot of the time, the two of them tended to walk on broken glass around one another when they were out on patrols. Especially nowadays, now that Damian wasn't a child anymore. Batman had his own way of doing things, and Robin had his, and more often than not, their ways clashed. If they weren't both so stubborn, things might have gone smoother. But they were stubborn, and Damian was at that age where he liked to test his limits and did so often.
He listened, most of the time, to Batman, did what he said when it was important for him to do so. That didn't mean that he was happy about it. Some nights, Robin ended up sulking all through their patrols.
Things were going to be worse here, without a doubt. The Bruce Wayne who had been thrown into Kansas with the rest of them was still his father, but he didn't know anything about his son. They'd lost eight years and Damian was not thrilled about going through everything all over again.
With Dick, it was different. They were brothers and their relationship wasn't anything like the one he and his father shared. Damian had a certain type of respect for Dick that was different than the respect he had for Batman.
He was more at ease around Nightwing and Robin went to him now without expecting an argument or any difficulties that would get in the way of what they were going to do.
Quietly, Robin came up behind him to settle, standing, beside him on the edge of the building's roof. He yanked his hood down around his neck and looked down at Nightwing without bothering to spare a glance out at the city.