[ The name doesn't mean anything to Damian, either. (Not a clue, not an inkling, because nobody tells him anything.)

But maybe there's some worth in not knowing. Some measure of satisfaction he can take. Whatever weight his father is dragging around that's related to this boy, Damian is free from it, unconcerned. He knows the Talon only as the assassin that tried to kill him.

Simple, clean. Honest. More honest than whatever his father's deal is. ]

Damian Wayne. A pleasure to meet you, Richard Grayson. I'd offer to shake your hand if I weren't sure you'd slit my throat first.

[ Dry, tongue-in-cheek, but Damian's also too exhausted to dredge up much real venom. And he doesn't really take personal assassinations as personal attacks.

The League taught him that you proved your rank by staying alive. Damian is alive, the clear winner, and his position is secure. He's actually in a relatively good mood, stabbing aside. ]

You know, Grayson--

[ Conversational. As if it's a completely normal situation. ]

--you should reconsider your employment options. The League of Assassins could use someone with your potential.

[ Canvassing on behalf of his mother? Yes, yes he is. The Talon has skill. And Damian may yet return to the League--

(--'You're going to make her Batman?! When Drake already inherits Wayne Enterprises? What about me?')

--though he doubts he will ever be able to kill as easily as he did before. ]