Nightwing Has An Idea...
Jason finished his handful of fries before quickly polishing off the last bite of his burger. He looked at Dick with a scrutinizing look as he chewed. When he was done, he swallowed and looked Dick in the eye. "You do know that sounds really sketchy, right?" he asked as he grabbed some more fries and tossed them into his mouth.
"There was no way to say it that wasn't sketchy," muttered Dick, who was well aware of how it sounded. No matter - he hadn't meant it that way. "Whatever, the point is - I could use a contact like you. Drop me info and I'll pay you. And if you could steal less tires that'd be nice." He narrowed his eyes at Jason and that expression was visible, even with the mask. "And don't bullshit me either - I'll be keeping tabs on you if I'm giving you money."
Pausing mid-chew, Jason mauled over Dick's offer. He didn't really want to steal tires, and the guy seemed legit enough. "I'm no rat," Jason muttered. "What kind of info do expect from me?" He was seriously considering this, especially since he could probably attempt to get a good 20 minutes alone with that bike again, maybe... Jason was still indecisive.
"Anything that seems useful. Names of important gang members, meeting locations, whatever you happen to hear." A pause, and then he added quickly: "Don't go out of your way either. I don't want you getting hurt doing this." He tried to sound serious and authoritative, but still didn't quite have the voice down. He wasn't used to being the one in charge, the one setting down the rules. He'd always been the one in the background, making witty quips. Well, he'd have to learn if he wanted to do these things on his own from now on. It wasn't like he didn't have all the tools he needed - Bruce had made sure of that.
Jason still wasn't completely sold, but he had no more food to use as a distraction, and he kinda didn't want Dick to leave. Not that he was going to tell him that. Living on the streets was starting to get lonely without his mom, and without school, he didn't really have any semblance of a social life. It was was sad when one started to think of a late night conversation with a vigilante as a social life. "All right," he answered, but the guy seemed like he'd tail him anyway, even if he didn't provide info. "I'll even stop jacking tires, if I get paid enough to be able to get by like I'm used to." Not that his lifestyle took all that much money to upkeep.
Dick gave a satisfied nod at that - that was what he'd been hoping to hear. Whether or not the kid was good to his word was a whole other matter, but for that he'd just have to wait and see. For now, this seemed like a good start. "I'll see what I can do to help." Though technically Dick could get money from Bruce if he ever needed it, there was no way in hell he was going to be asking for it unless he was absolutely desperate.
Jason crumpled up the paper bag that was now emptied of food and full of wrappers and fry cartons. He glances around and gets up to toss the bag into a trash can. He walks back to the bench but doesn't sit down. "So, how do I contact you?" he asked then paused. "Or is it 'don't call me, I'll call you' kinda thing?"
Good question. Dick idly drummed his fingers on the back of the bench as he weighed his options. "We don't necessarily have to meet in person," he pointed out. "Probably better that we don't - if people notice that you're associated with me, that could be trouble for you. If you write the information down and hide it somewhere, I'll just drop by and get it from there." That seemed like a good system. Relatively safe, provided they found a good hiding spot, and gave Dick an element of Batman-esque mystery and control over the situation.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Ehh, I don't know. I can't think of anywhere safe to hide notes," he started. "And I agree on not meeting in person. That'd just be stupid. At least, not meeting a cape, anyway. You do have a face behind that mask, don't you?" He didn't actually think he'd get Nightwing's identity outta him, but he could wear another disguise, if he wear that paranoid about a kid knowing his 'secret identity.'
Ugh. More layers to wear. Dick had always been glad to leave that to Batman, who donned masks and personas with ease - it had never come quite so easily to Dick. Unfortunately, Jason did have a point - there weren't really any safe places for notes. Locks could be picked or broken open and hidden spots could always be found, especially if someone followed Jason. "Yeah, and I'd like to keep it behind my mask. But I guess we can work something out. If we have to meet, we'll need a spot. And a signal." Shit, this was WAY more complicated than it had seemed five minutes ago when Dick thought it up. "The signal at least can be something left somewhere, as long as it's subtle."
"A batsignal?" Jason asked with a chuckle. "Batman's sooo subtle with that." Jason paused. "You don't work with him, or something? Because if you think a signal like that is a good idea..." Jason just shook his head, and stood in thought for a bit. He wasn't really sure subtle would work in Bludhaven, though maybe phone calls would work. Sure, they'd be traceable, but that's a little more work than most people should be willing to put into it. Hmm.
"Yeah, well, things are different in Gotham, okay?" Dick waved a hand dismissively. "That's not what I meant. I meant something small, something that when I see it I'll know to meet with you at a certain place and time." Although, that said, he was still trying to think of something that would be permanent enough not to get bothered by other people but also not be noticed as strange. He brought up a gloved hand to rub at his temple, just above the line of his mask.
Jason shrugs. "You're the brains in this," he offered ever so helpfully. "I'm just the street kid that sells you info, right?" Okay, he really hoped that didn't seem bitter somehow. He was getting tired, and mauling over the details of this thing they were going to have was getting tedious. And for the first time in a while, he had a full belly, and that was just making it harder for him to hide his sleepiness.
"Hey," said Dick rather sharply. "I never said you weren't smart. I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't think you had a good head on your shoulders." He pulled himself up out of his languid slump on the bench and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Look, just tell me how to get in contact with you in the short term, we can work this out as we go along." Give himself a little time to think out a system and everything would work perfectly.
"Well, I have a cell..." Jason trailed off. His mother had gotten it for him a birthday present a year ago, but when he had run out of minutes after his mom died, he didn't really see the point in buying more minutes. He still had the phone, though it was more a keepsake than anything, even though he felt stupid about it. "It's not much use, though. Ran outta minutes a long time ago, and filling my stomach seemed a bit more important."
That got a rather amused snort. "You're difficult," he muttered, though without any malice. He fished around in a pocket hidden in the side of his boots and pulled out three twenty dollar bills. It was a bit of a risk, but really, how much would Dick miss the money? Not at all, but Jason probably needed it - he sure looked like he did and he didn't look like the type to waste it on drugs. "Here. Consider it a deposit on future information. Drop some minutes on the phone, get yourself something to eat for the next couple of days. I'll be in touch in, say, a week."
Jason stared at the money in his hand for a moment before pocketing, hopefully not too quickly. He was really thinking about keeping the money and disappearing, but he was beginning to trust this guy. Not that he wanted to, since that could never go in his favor. "Yeah, sure. Here's my number," Jason told him the number and tried to hide a yawn, but probably failed miserably.
The problem with the Nightwing costume, Dick was quickly finding, was that there was no damn place to put anything. He had a few small pockets and carried a couple things with him, but he didn't have nearly the range of gadgets that Batman did. As Robin, it had been no big deal to not have much space to carry stuff - Batman was ALWAYS prepared. But now he had to do it on his own and he was seriously running into some snags. So that was the reason for the rather odd sight of Dick writing down the number in very tiny, very neat font, on a neatly folded piece of paper that he'd pulled out of...some hidden pocket, somewhere. That done, the paper disappeared from whence it came and Dick glanced over at Jason, noting how tired the boy looked. "You look beat. Want me to take you home?"
Jason stood up straight. "I'm not tired," he denied, trailing off, "...but I do want to go home. Make sure no one took my squat." He was so tired he wasn't really paying attention to the fact Dick had written the number down so tiny and folded up to put away in aa hidden pocket. He tried not to yawn again, but it wasn't really work. If he weren't so stubborn, he would have said he was exhausted.
"Yeah, sure..." Dick was giving Jason a very knowing grin. Apparently the urge to deny any signs of tiredness was a universal trait in all kids. Although Jason only barely counted as a kid, really. "Well, come on then." He got to his feet in one fluid movement and then, out of habit, hopped up onto the back of the bench and walked along the backs all the way back to the bike. His balance was superb - he might as well have been walking on flat ground for all that he seemed to notice his precarious position. It wasn't really to show off - little feats of balance like that kept Dick amused and by this point were more or less second nature.
Jason blinked. "Show off," he muttered as he walked to Dick's bike, not doing some balancing act. Well, if he put his mind to it, Jason could probably do what Dick was doing for a little bit, but definitely not when he probably should have passed out on his mattress a half an hour ago.
Dick just laughed and shrugged. "It's fun," he said as he swung himself onto the bike and started up the engine. "So, where shall I drop you off?" he asked once Jason was settled behind him.
Jason wrapped arms around Dick's waist, and tried not lean onto his back as he muttered the address of his squat. Though, once Dick starting driving, his arms tightened slightly as he nodded off, leaning his head and body weight against Dick's back. Not even the roar of the motorcycle engine was bothering him now.
It was easy to feel the change in the way Jason's weight was leaning on him, which left Dick torn between being amused and being worried. Having Jason fall off mid-ride would be...disastrous, to say the least. So he took it slow, riding down streets that were nearly devoid of any other living souls at a much more sedate pace than he would have otherwise. The ride gave him time to think as well and pretty soon his mind wandered to where he was dropping Jason off at. It was a bad part of town - run down and more or less abandoned to criminals and the exceptionally down on their luck. He kind of wished he had Bruce's unlimited resources and could have just given the kid a place to stay. Hey, that random sense of protectiveness had worked out well for Dick himself, maybe he should return the favor someday. But that probably wasn't possible here - he didn't really know much about Jason's situation or anything about him, not to mention he was considerably older than Dick had been when Bruce had taken him in.
"There was no way to say it that wasn't sketchy," muttered Dick, who was well aware of how it sounded. No matter - he hadn't meant it that way. "Whatever, the point is - I could use a contact like you. Drop me info and I'll pay you. And if you could steal less tires that'd be nice." He narrowed his eyes at Jason and that expression was visible, even with the mask. "And don't bullshit me either - I'll be keeping tabs on you if I'm giving you money."
Pausing mid-chew, Jason mauled over Dick's offer. He didn't really want to steal tires, and the guy seemed legit enough. "I'm no rat," Jason muttered. "What kind of info do expect from me?" He was seriously considering this, especially since he could probably attempt to get a good 20 minutes alone with that bike again, maybe... Jason was still indecisive.
"Anything that seems useful. Names of important gang members, meeting locations, whatever you happen to hear." A pause, and then he added quickly: "Don't go out of your way either. I don't want you getting hurt doing this." He tried to sound serious and authoritative, but still didn't quite have the voice down. He wasn't used to being the one in charge, the one setting down the rules. He'd always been the one in the background, making witty quips. Well, he'd have to learn if he wanted to do these things on his own from now on. It wasn't like he didn't have all the tools he needed - Bruce had made sure of that.
Jason still wasn't completely sold, but he had no more food to use as a distraction, and he kinda didn't want Dick to leave. Not that he was going to tell him that. Living on the streets was starting to get lonely without his mom, and without school, he didn't really have any semblance of a social life. It was was sad when one started to think of a late night conversation with a vigilante as a social life. "All right," he answered, but the guy seemed like he'd tail him anyway, even if he didn't provide info. "I'll even stop jacking tires, if I get paid enough to be able to get by like I'm used to." Not that his lifestyle took all that much money to upkeep.
Dick gave a satisfied nod at that - that was what he'd been hoping to hear. Whether or not the kid was good to his word was a whole other matter, but for that he'd just have to wait and see. For now, this seemed like a good start. "I'll see what I can do to help." Though technically Dick could get money from Bruce if he ever needed it, there was no way in hell he was going to be asking for it unless he was absolutely desperate.
Jason crumpled up the paper bag that was now emptied of food and full of wrappers and fry cartons. He glances around and gets up to toss the bag into a trash can. He walks back to the bench but doesn't sit down. "So, how do I contact you?" he asked then paused. "Or is it 'don't call me, I'll call you' kinda thing?"
Good question. Dick idly drummed his fingers on the back of the bench as he weighed his options. "We don't necessarily have to meet in person," he pointed out. "Probably better that we don't - if people notice that you're associated with me, that could be trouble for you. If you write the information down and hide it somewhere, I'll just drop by and get it from there." That seemed like a good system. Relatively safe, provided they found a good hiding spot, and gave Dick an element of Batman-esque mystery and control over the situation.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Ehh, I don't know. I can't think of anywhere safe to hide notes," he started. "And I agree on not meeting in person. That'd just be stupid. At least, not meeting a cape, anyway. You do have a face behind that mask, don't you?" He didn't actually think he'd get Nightwing's identity outta him, but he could wear another disguise, if he wear that paranoid about a kid knowing his 'secret identity.'
Ugh. More layers to wear. Dick had always been glad to leave that to Batman, who donned masks and personas with ease - it had never come quite so easily to Dick. Unfortunately, Jason did have a point - there weren't really any safe places for notes. Locks could be picked or broken open and hidden spots could always be found, especially if someone followed Jason. "Yeah, and I'd like to keep it behind my mask. But I guess we can work something out. If we have to meet, we'll need a spot. And a signal." Shit, this was WAY more complicated than it had seemed five minutes ago when Dick thought it up. "The signal at least can be something left somewhere, as long as it's subtle."
"A batsignal?" Jason asked with a chuckle. "Batman's sooo subtle with that." Jason paused. "You don't work with him, or something? Because if you think a signal like that is a good idea..." Jason just shook his head, and stood in thought for a bit. He wasn't really sure subtle would work in Bludhaven, though maybe phone calls would work. Sure, they'd be traceable, but that's a little more work than most people should be willing to put into it. Hmm.
"Yeah, well, things are different in Gotham, okay?" Dick waved a hand dismissively. "That's not what I meant. I meant something small, something that when I see it I'll know to meet with you at a certain place and time." Although, that said, he was still trying to think of something that would be permanent enough not to get bothered by other people but also not be noticed as strange. He brought up a gloved hand to rub at his temple, just above the line of his mask.
Jason shrugs. "You're the brains in this," he offered ever so helpfully. "I'm just the street kid that sells you info, right?" Okay, he really hoped that didn't seem bitter somehow. He was getting tired, and mauling over the details of this thing they were going to have was getting tedious. And for the first time in a while, he had a full belly, and that was just making it harder for him to hide his sleepiness.
"Hey," said Dick rather sharply. "I never said you weren't smart. I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't think you had a good head on your shoulders." He pulled himself up out of his languid slump on the bench and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Look, just tell me how to get in contact with you in the short term, we can work this out as we go along." Give himself a little time to think out a system and everything would work perfectly.
"Well, I have a cell..." Jason trailed off. His mother had gotten it for him a birthday present a year ago, but when he had run out of minutes after his mom died, he didn't really see the point in buying more minutes. He still had the phone, though it was more a keepsake than anything, even though he felt stupid about it. "It's not much use, though. Ran outta minutes a long time ago, and filling my stomach seemed a bit more important."
That got a rather amused snort. "You're difficult," he muttered, though without any malice. He fished around in a pocket hidden in the side of his boots and pulled out three twenty dollar bills. It was a bit of a risk, but really, how much would Dick miss the money? Not at all, but Jason probably needed it - he sure looked like he did and he didn't look like the type to waste it on drugs. "Here. Consider it a deposit on future information. Drop some minutes on the phone, get yourself something to eat for the next couple of days. I'll be in touch in, say, a week."
Jason stared at the money in his hand for a moment before pocketing, hopefully not too quickly. He was really thinking about keeping the money and disappearing, but he was beginning to trust this guy. Not that he wanted to, since that could never go in his favor. "Yeah, sure. Here's my number," Jason told him the number and tried to hide a yawn, but probably failed miserably.
The problem with the Nightwing costume, Dick was quickly finding, was that there was no damn place to put anything. He had a few small pockets and carried a couple things with him, but he didn't have nearly the range of gadgets that Batman did. As Robin, it had been no big deal to not have much space to carry stuff - Batman was ALWAYS prepared. But now he had to do it on his own and he was seriously running into some snags. So that was the reason for the rather odd sight of Dick writing down the number in very tiny, very neat font, on a neatly folded piece of paper that he'd pulled out of...some hidden pocket, somewhere. That done, the paper disappeared from whence it came and Dick glanced over at Jason, noting how tired the boy looked. "You look beat. Want me to take you home?"
Jason stood up straight. "I'm not tired," he denied, trailing off, "...but I do want to go home. Make sure no one took my squat." He was so tired he wasn't really paying attention to the fact Dick had written the number down so tiny and folded up to put away in aa hidden pocket. He tried not to yawn again, but it wasn't really work. If he weren't so stubborn, he would have said he was exhausted.
"Yeah, sure..." Dick was giving Jason a very knowing grin. Apparently the urge to deny any signs of tiredness was a universal trait in all kids. Although Jason only barely counted as a kid, really. "Well, come on then." He got to his feet in one fluid movement and then, out of habit, hopped up onto the back of the bench and walked along the backs all the way back to the bike. His balance was superb - he might as well have been walking on flat ground for all that he seemed to notice his precarious position. It wasn't really to show off - little feats of balance like that kept Dick amused and by this point were more or less second nature.
Jason blinked. "Show off," he muttered as he walked to Dick's bike, not doing some balancing act. Well, if he put his mind to it, Jason could probably do what Dick was doing for a little bit, but definitely not when he probably should have passed out on his mattress a half an hour ago.
Dick just laughed and shrugged. "It's fun," he said as he swung himself onto the bike and started up the engine. "So, where shall I drop you off?" he asked once Jason was settled behind him.
Jason wrapped arms around Dick's waist, and tried not lean onto his back as he muttered the address of his squat. Though, once Dick starting driving, his arms tightened slightly as he nodded off, leaning his head and body weight against Dick's back. Not even the roar of the motorcycle engine was bothering him now.
It was easy to feel the change in the way Jason's weight was leaning on him, which left Dick torn between being amused and being worried. Having Jason fall off mid-ride would be...disastrous, to say the least. So he took it slow, riding down streets that were nearly devoid of any other living souls at a much more sedate pace than he would have otherwise. The ride gave him time to think as well and pretty soon his mind wandered to where he was dropping Jason off at. It was a bad part of town - run down and more or less abandoned to criminals and the exceptionally down on their luck. He kind of wished he had Bruce's unlimited resources and could have just given the kid a place to stay. Hey, that random sense of protectiveness had worked out well for Dick himself, maybe he should return the favor someday. But that probably wasn't possible here - he didn't really know much about Jason's situation or anything about him, not to mention he was considerably older than Dick had been when Bruce had taken him in.