Damian's never cared for detective work, but it's not due to a lack of skill. It just doesn't hold his interest. There are better things to be doing than poking around for clues. Than analyzing data. It's too easy. Beneath him. Dull. But there's been little else to occupy him in the month since his own arrival. He's watched.

Observed.

(And nearly fallen asleep, for that matter, the few occasions he sought out known associates of his father.)

"They're telling the truth," he says with a scowl. "No one decides to leave just like no one would ever decide to come here. They vanish the same way as they show up." Tilting his head to the side, he stares up at Batman with detached interest. "You were lost in the timestream when I showed up here. But you're from before that, aren't you?"