[Damian had woken up to find himself in an unfamiliar place -- or at least, not the place he'd fallen asleep. Paradisa had a way of making your surroundings seem yours, like deja vu, even if you were quite certain you'd never been there in your life. The arrangement of the room definitely isn't his, but the things in it are things he would own.
If he hadn't been through this a number of times in two years, he'd be panicked and the adrenaline would be pumping and he'd be trying to arm himself in an unfamiliar place, but by now he approaches it with a sense of routine. He still gets edgy about it, of course, but he doesn't go right into "stab anything that dares move" mode.
He shoves off his blankets and sets his bare feet on the floor, and then gets up to cross the room. His bedroom door opens with the slightest creak, and he peers down the hall, wary. There's light, and fire and...
a voice.
Damian pauses, almost daring himself to get his hopes up. He takes a few steps down the hall, just to bring more of the living room into view, and sure enough, there's the back of a familiar head. Damian wills himself to look around the rest of the room, books and paperwork and all, before focusing his attentions back on Dick.
And he isn't sure what to say, in case he breaks some sort of illusion. Has he just spent too many hours staring at the walls over the past few days?
He just stays there, fingers curled around the corner of the wall, watching.
If this is real, he's both thrilled and terrified.]
[ Dick turns his head only slightly having heard the faintest creaking of Damian's door just moments before. ]
In here.
[ He turns more then, a gentle if not a little sympathetic smile on his lips. He hadn't heard a sound coming from Damian's room all night, so he had assumed the boy had had an early night.]
[He enters the living room with a sort of trepidation. Is this real? He moves around the side of the couch without taking his eyes off of Dick. Maybe Kate drugged him, and this is all a hallucination from a prison cell, set up to make him imagine being confronted by Dick about everything from the past few weeks.
Damian just stands there, coming close but still lingering a safe distance away.]
Apparently not. When did you get here? [Pause.] Or when did I get here?
[Alright, he is hallucinating. That doesn't make sense on any earth, because for Damian to have been sleeping there an hour ago, someone else would have had to move him, or it'd be fake, and --
[ Dick sighs. They've been over this time and time again. Damian knows why they're here in Paris and why Dick had to take the job at the park, which admittedly has been far more time consuming than he had initially thought it would be, but it does provide him with a good cover.
[It occurs to Damian that what's going on here could actually be worse than a hallucination -- he could be somehow back in the real world but he DIDN'T lose his memories of Paradisa, like everyone promised he would.
He watches Dick with a sinking feeling. He hasn't felt so stupid and childish in a while.]
[ Dick takes that as a no, Damian does not wish to talk about it. Fair enough. He's probably tired of having the same conversation over and over again, too.
Dick moves over on the couch, making room for Damian if he wishes to sit down.
Topic changing is a go. Conversely, and showing no sign of the conversation fatigue that he was displaying a moment ago: ]
[There's room on the couch and Damian is simultaneously drawn to it and compelled to get out of this place. Staying will just mean having to pretend everything's normal, like he doesn't have two extra years of memories and all the experiences to go along with them. He watches Dick for a moment before joining him on the couch, anyway.
He's missed Dick too much to willingly leave his company.]
[Quiet nod, trying not to hate Dick's stupid kindnesses right now. Dick couldn't possibly know that there's anything amiss about this or wrong, so he's not really at fault, but it's still frustrating. The best Damian can do is get a day of good clean fun and time with Dick out of it, so he'll try for that and pretend the rest of it isn't happening.
He slumps against the back of the couch.
Dick would be so upset if he knew what Damian had done. Or what he'd almost done.]
[ Oh boy, he has massive ground to make up, doesn't he? Dick reminds himself of how bored he would get in the early days of Bruce's fostering, back when Bruce didn't know what to do with him or because he never had the time to do much at all.
Dick knows there's the case they're working, but he shouldn't ever have let it get this bad. ]
Whatever you want.
[ And if Damian doesn't particularly feel like suggesting things - not that Dick would blame him, given the current state of things - then Dick will come up with something. Enforced fun, yeah, what's not to love? ]
If he hadn't been through this a number of times in two years, he'd be panicked and the adrenaline would be pumping and he'd be trying to arm himself in an unfamiliar place, but by now he approaches it with a sense of routine. He still gets edgy about it, of course, but he doesn't go right into "stab anything that dares move" mode.
He shoves off his blankets and sets his bare feet on the floor, and then gets up to cross the room. His bedroom door opens with the slightest creak, and he peers down the hall, wary. There's light, and fire and...
a voice.
Damian pauses, almost daring himself to get his hopes up. He takes a few steps down the hall, just to bring more of the living room into view, and sure enough, there's the back of a familiar head. Damian wills himself to look around the rest of the room, books and paperwork and all, before focusing his attentions back on Dick.
And he isn't sure what to say, in case he breaks some sort of illusion. Has he just spent too many hours staring at the walls over the past few days?
He just stays there, fingers curled around the corner of the wall, watching.
If this is real, he's both thrilled and terrified.]
Grayson?
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In here.
[ He turns more then, a gentle if not a little sympathetic smile on his lips. He hadn't heard a sound coming from Damian's room all night, so he had assumed the boy had had an early night.]
Couldn't sleep?
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Damian just stands there, coming close but still lingering a safe distance away.]
Apparently not. When did you get here? [Pause.] Or when did I get here?
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Couldn't tell you. You were in bed when I got home about an hour ago.
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He just blurts it out, frustrated already.]
Are you even real?
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Dick puts his glass to one side. ]
Do we have to talk about this again?
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He watches Dick with a sinking feeling. He hasn't felt so stupid and childish in a while.]
Talk about what?
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Dick moves over on the couch, making room for Damian if he wishes to sit down.
Topic changing is a go. Conversely, and showing no sign of the conversation fatigue that he was displaying a moment ago: ]
So what did you do today?
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He's missed Dick too much to willingly leave his company.]
Sat around and stared at the walls.
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Sorry.
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If you were around, it wouldn't have happened.
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I know, I- Listen, it's Sunday tomorrow. Why don't we go into town and do something?
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He slumps against the back of the couch.
Dick would be so upset if he knew what Damian had done. Or what he'd almost done.]
Like what?
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Dick knows there's the case they're working, but he shouldn't ever have let it get this bad. ]
Whatever you want.
[ And if Damian doesn't particularly feel like suggesting things - not that Dick would blame him, given the current state of things - then Dick will come up with something. Enforced fun, yeah, what's not to love? ]
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[He watches Dick, somewhat questioningly.]
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Better than okay.
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