(no subject)
It's relatively easy to pick up on culture and why people act as they do, but it takes an eternity to pick up on those little nuances. The broad strokes are easy, the details elude him. He can field-strip just about any gun, decode a programmed nuclear warhead, and parachute from ten thousand feet, but something as simple as why adults like to put things on the fridge with magnets utterly escape him.
That is exactly what Damian is struggling with at this very moment.
At first it had just been the back-and-forth between him and Dick when he'd done that drawing of the strange creature in the Dead Zone. Dick wanted it on the fridge, and Damian wanted it to be a crucial piece of evidence that should not be on display. Dick saw it as rare artwork from a kid who often refused to be a kid, Damian saw it as unartistic and embarrassing. Dick thought it to be worthy of display, and Damian thought it was all a bunch of conflict over nothing.
And conflict there was -- that stupid drawing went up and down, up and down, over the course of weeks, until eventually Damian conceded defeat in the face of Dick's photocopying abilities.
Then it had been the spin-art Mindy had dogged him for, all this streaky paint in circular patterns, navy blue and yellow. Not a big deal, Damian thought. it's just some paint. But it's never too little of a deal for Dick Grayson. Damian isn't sure whether it's to embarrass him or celebrate him. If it's a celebration, what for? Anyone could do create art better than his. It's one of the few things Damian just can't grasp.
Damian looks at the fridge when he passes it, eyes lingering on all the small-but-growing collection of drawings and art. Most of it is meaningless to him, meaningless to the public and meaningless to the grand scheme of the universe, so why bother? When he's Batman, these scraps of paper will be worth less than the dirt on his boots.
"Don't even think about it," Dick says as he breezes through the kitchenette, one hand glued to his coffee mug and the other dipping to ruffle Damian's hair. "I'll put them all back up."
"I know you will," Damian grumbles.
It's a strange ritual, but he knows that if he asks he'll be told that he'll "understand it someday."
Someday, he feels, is always a long, long way off.
That is exactly what Damian is struggling with at this very moment.
At first it had just been the back-and-forth between him and Dick when he'd done that drawing of the strange creature in the Dead Zone. Dick wanted it on the fridge, and Damian wanted it to be a crucial piece of evidence that should not be on display. Dick saw it as rare artwork from a kid who often refused to be a kid, Damian saw it as unartistic and embarrassing. Dick thought it to be worthy of display, and Damian thought it was all a bunch of conflict over nothing.
And conflict there was -- that stupid drawing went up and down, up and down, over the course of weeks, until eventually Damian conceded defeat in the face of Dick's photocopying abilities.
Then it had been the spin-art Mindy had dogged him for, all this streaky paint in circular patterns, navy blue and yellow. Not a big deal, Damian thought. it's just some paint. But it's never too little of a deal for Dick Grayson. Damian isn't sure whether it's to embarrass him or celebrate him. If it's a celebration, what for? Anyone could do create art better than his. It's one of the few things Damian just can't grasp.
Damian looks at the fridge when he passes it, eyes lingering on all the small-but-growing collection of drawings and art. Most of it is meaningless to him, meaningless to the public and meaningless to the grand scheme of the universe, so why bother? When he's Batman, these scraps of paper will be worth less than the dirt on his boots.
"Don't even think about it," Dick says as he breezes through the kitchenette, one hand glued to his coffee mug and the other dipping to ruffle Damian's hair. "I'll put them all back up."
"I know you will," Damian grumbles.
It's a strange ritual, but he knows that if he asks he'll be told that he'll "understand it someday."
Someday, he feels, is always a long, long way off.