Damian wondered why his father delighted in tormenting him. What could he ask for? Asking for a sword would likely result in being sent to his room, asking for mercy was impossible, and now more rules. "Yes,Father," he mumbled, folding his arms. "I'm sure I can infiltrate the school with little effort and will not need to resort to violence."
Tim... wasn't really sure why he was being read the riot act here. He'd been going to school... mostly... and hadn't even gotten into so much as an argument with anyone, let alone a fistfight.
Mostly because he'd thrown elbows at the guys that had tried to shove him in the hallways.
He gave Bruce his most cheerful smile and a deeply impertinent salute. "Yes, sir."
Damian looked at his shoes and wished he could speak up and tell his father he had no idea how to enjoy being forced to go to a school and make friends. Friends were for weak people, even if Grayson had a point that one needed to cultivate them to be successful. “When may I be cleared for training?” he asked, not knowing what else to say. It was the most prudent idea, to just nod and do as he pleased. He was happier that his father was accepting him, but he still felt irritated.
"That is a different issue," Bruce informs the boy calmly. "we will discuss it later." Except that it's not really that separate. Mostly, not. He frowns to himself.
"Your grades and your conduct at school will be part of my decision." School has always taken precedence over patrolling for Robin. It has to. To be an effective crime fighter, one has to have not only the skills and the training, but the intelligence and awareness to apply it all. Even the simple things that seem like they would never be part of this life.
Bruce sighs at Damian. "No infiltrating, Damian. Try to. Enjoy it. Make friends."
He nods to Mar'i, wondering what's going on with her and Damian. The air is utterly icy between them.
Turning to Timmy Bruce is as close to relieved as the controlled man gets. It seems odd to be be putting his hopes on the boy, but of the three, Timmy is the one most likely to be reasonable. Maybe he'll get lucky and the boy's attitude will rub off on the others. Which is a VERY strange thing to hope for, all things considered.
"School's tomorrow, Mar'i," Tim calls after her, raising his eyebrows. There's no need to rush things, after all, and he doesn't want her waiting all day for them to head off to school. He shrugs a little and gives Bruce a little smile. So this mean's he's not going to be the trouble kid at school. Cool.
Damian had no idea why Grayson Jr. was being so cold to him. He had been talking logical facts and she had behaved so emotionally. He was aware her species was fairly emotional (both female and alien) but this was insane. "Fun?" he asked. He could define the word, but his idea of fun was fighting crime and training, neither he could do in school. "Even Mar'i considers this impossible. I have no need for fun or friends. Timmy here is sufficient."
Damian was disgusted to hear even more bad news. Firstly, he was expected to have fun. Second, his grades and behavior would be judged to determine his ability to do useful work. Third, he was losing his temper and he was helpless to do anything. "Any other torments you wish to inflict on me, Father?" he hissed acidly.
Bruce--no Brucie--raises a finger to his lips, pondering. "Well Sport. There IS that charity Opera coming up. You could do with some culture! Ha ha!" The mouth is distressingly wide around that too false laugh.
Damian’s lips went bloodless as he pressed them together. He could feel the anger that had simmered go to full boil. “Stop it!” he shouted, shaking with rage. Father did this to him to show his contempt, his wish to separate from him. “Don’t do that, I’m not some civilian you need to fool, I’m your son! How dare you treat me like a stranger! You would never treat Grayson or Drake or your precious failure Todd like this. You lied to me, you said you would treat me like any other one but you just keep tormenting me, making me dance to your tune just to humiliate me. You wouldn’t do this to them, but I am not like the others! I apologize that I am not some riff-raff who you get to take pity on, I’m the son you had foisted on you! But I am a good son, I am well trained to follow in your footsteps, if you do not promise my birthright away to the next Orphan Andy with a sob story! Do I have to become a criminal like Todd to get your attention?" He was breathing heavily, and he yearned to throw something at his father
( ... )
Bruce--Brucie is gone just that fast--blinks, and listens. He raises an eyebrow. This was unexpected. Well not entirely but really, it was over something very minor and Damian was making some very erroneous assumptions.
"Damian." The name is a command, but there is a sigh of...resignation? Bruce honestly couldn't say WHAT he was being resigned about, but in that moment he feels very old. Taking on the Joker would be easier.
"You have my attention and I AM treating you like Dick and Tim. They had to go to school, they had to blend in and learn to be more then just Robin. They had to go to the society parties AND deal with Brucie. They still do, to a lesser extent."
Steel blue eyes bore into the boy's own as if by force of will Bruce can make his son understand. There is more to say. So very much more, but the boy is clearly overloaded already. Best to take this in bite size pieces.
Tim blinks a little at the sudden transformation--from Bruce to Brucie and back, and then of Damian from irritable kid to spitting hellcat. "You know, it is so distracting when you do that. It's like you're a different person. My you never takes it that far." But he's still eying Bruce with a kind of fascination--like he might be able to figure out how Bruce does it.
He shakes his head a little and glances toward Damian. "He does do it to them. Big me hates it, and says it makes him want to punch him to make him look real again."
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She's grim-faced and is standing by Timmy's side, blatantly keeping Damian at a distance.
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Mostly because he'd thrown elbows at the guys that had tried to shove him in the hallways.
He gave Bruce his most cheerful smile and a deeply impertinent salute. "Yes, sir."
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"Your grades and your conduct at school will be part of my decision." School has always taken precedence over patrolling for Robin. It has to. To be an effective crime fighter, one has to have not only the skills and the training, but the intelligence and awareness to apply it all. Even the simple things that seem like they would never be part of this life.
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He nods to Mar'i, wondering what's going on with her and Damian. The air is utterly icy between them.
Turning to Timmy Bruce is as close to relieved as the controlled man gets. It seems odd to be be putting his hopes on the boy, but of the three, Timmy is the one most likely to be reasonable. Maybe he'll get lucky and the boy's attitude will rub off on the others. Which is a VERY strange thing to hope for, all things considered.
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Mar'i makes a disapproving sound - she can't know that, but she's practically reading younger Wayne's thoughts.
"I'll wait for you in the Bentley." She murmurs to Timmy. "See you later Grandpa," she greets warmly, then she rises and floats out of the room.
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"Yes, fun. I received a similar dictate from Alfred." And those memories make the corners of his mouth twitch every so slightly upwards.
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"Damian." The name is a command, but there is a sigh of...resignation? Bruce honestly couldn't say WHAT he was being resigned about, but in that moment he feels very old. Taking on the Joker would be easier.
"You have my attention and I AM treating you like Dick and Tim. They had to go to school, they had to blend in and learn to be more then just Robin. They had to go to the society parties AND deal with Brucie. They still do, to a lesser extent."
Steel blue eyes bore into the boy's own as if by force of will Bruce can make his son understand. There is more to say. So very much more, but the boy is clearly overloaded already. Best to take this in bite size pieces.
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He shakes his head a little and glances toward Damian. "He does do it to them. Big me hates it, and says it makes him want to punch him to make him look real again."
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