"Three would likely be enough," Damian says. "I have more that claim the title. None by blood." He smiles a little and shrugs. "I disliked them all first. But I suppose now there are those I'm closer to." Richard, mainly. Though he and Drake had come to terms. And he had a certain admiration for Todd's ruthlessness paired with a ridiculous sense of the dramatic. And he is fond of Cassandra.

He may like most of them, he just doesn't like admitting it. And there would always be tension. That's likely just what happens when you've tried to kill most of them.

Damian cocks his head, but doesn't look overly worried. An overblown sense of invincibility is something he has yet to outgrow, despite being decidedly defeated several times. "What do you want?" He plucks up a conjured piece with deft fingers, examining it curiously.

"My soul is the same age as the rest of me. It's just also as mature as the rest of me, which is usually more so than the rest of the people I spend time with," Damian answers. He looks up from the piece in his hand, setting it back down as Loki pinches his own cheek. "It's an attractive enough face," he says, matter of factly enough that it somehow doesn't sound like a compliment.