Sometimes whispering's okay
Who: BatDick and FailTim.
What: A reunion, of sorts. Quicklog.
Where: Outside where nobody they know will come looking.
When: Backdated; shortly after Dick's return.
Tim: *can't sneak very well when limping... but he can come out of the house and meet Dick partway, since, uh, he didn't sound so enthusiastic 'bout coming in, over the journals.*
Dick: *Really can't, huh? He heard that floorboard creak. He pockets the Batarang he's sharpening and looks over at the front door, expecting Jilly in all truthfulness. But when there's no key placed in the lock or knock on the door, curiosity sinks in, and Dick pushes himself up from the couch. He pulls back the curtains by a fraction.* Tim! *He pulls the door open and... for a moment doesn't really know what to say. Which, he guesses, is probably why Tim is stood out on the front porch instead of being inside and and having a pot of coffee pushed under his nose. He notes the bum leg.* What happened?
Tim: *shrug. Looks up at for a second - geez, Dick - and away. Bart could be back any minute, he was like that. So, Tim's not coming in.* Stuff. What happened to you? *Luckily his hand is both bandaged and gloved, besides being shoved in his pocket. Pointed.* Thought we were goin' for lunch.
Dick: Yeah, we- *masterfully skating over that personal inquiry there!* I thought I was coming to you? Couldn't wait to see me, huh? *deeerpy smile, although he's trying to rein it in, honest*
Tim: *Huff. Eyeroll. Traces of a smile - feels like he hasn't done that in awhile.* Whatever. C'mon, s'get outta here.
Dick: So where're we going? *Not that he cares and not that he's hungry either. He's just happily falling into step with a much missed little brother. They don't even have to talk, man, seriously.*
Tim: *Y-yeah, kind of his thoughts too. They can just walk along, right? He's getting the hang of hiding the limp from most people (since Stevie's not supposed to have one.) A shrug. Quietly.* Anywhere. *and a little louder* I'm not that hungry, I guess.
Dick: Yeah, the seafood's overrated here anyway. *So they can just hang, right? Awesome. Maybe once they reach the less crowded boardwalk Tim can limp it up a little, or Hell, Dick'll take the initiative and actually sit down so Tim can take a load off.* So who's the guy I owe an ass-kicking to? *a nod to Tim's leg again*
Tim: *He slumps a little into the seat beside Dick, eyes down. The words come quick, and short - but too shaky to be a good block.* We took care of it.
Dick: Oh... *There's something in Tim's voice that tells him there's more to it, but perhaps now is not the time to pry* Well of course you did. *shoulder bump*
Tim: *sharp inhale* And at least the right guy's in the clink this time. *blinks out at the horizon.*
Dick: *That earns a little frown.* Sylar? *His teeth are grit and he bites back a comment about why it's taken so long. Grim;* Good. Let's hope he stays there.
Tim: *shuts his eyes. Stretches his leg.* Yeah. He will.
Dick: Did you ever find out how he was able to...revive like that?
Tim: ... Healing factor. Is the guess. *and now he looks kind of sick to his stomach, hunching away.* Didn't really wanna test it.
Dick: Yeah, guess not, huh? Hey... *he places a hand on the small of Tim's back.* you okay?
Tim: *He keeps curling and uncurling his right hand, where it's laid there. Looking away.* It was an accident, right. You were there- the first time.
Dick: Hey *sympathetic look* still not a mind-reader, Tim. *he rubs his hand just a bit* You can tell me.
Tim: *Yeah, if I wanna get disowned - no. Blackly* Ask Bart. *and veering away from that like it's a ten-mile cliff. Right, delay delay delay.* So what happened at home, huh? You look kinda different yourself.
Dick: *Oh that. That isn't fair. Especially when he gets what Tim's on about now, it just took a moment, okay. He'll also just drop his hand back into his lap... everything he touches, right.* It's not important. *backflipping that topic!!* I'm sure you did what you had to.
Tim: *silence. Yeah. See if you think that way once you go take a look. ...* Don't think you missed much else... haven't seen Bruce in awhile. *tch* Field trips.
Dick: *Whee there's a little stiff shouldered frigidness of his own right now. He also seems to have found what Tim found so interesting out there on the horizon* He's a busy guy.
Tim: *leans back against Dick's side, cautious.* Mm. I'm not worried.
Dick: *exhales. Time to play positive, c'mon go.* Why would you be? *This smile is totally painful and heartbreaking as he turns to Tim* He's Batman.
Tim: *looks back, and up, and... just stares at that for a second, a little crease appearing on his forehead. What...? Okay, no, he doesn't like this, he doesn't like the force that took, and suddenly he's done sitting down.* C'mon. I want lunch.
Dick: *It hurts to hide things from Tim, especially now after... after everything. Dick scrubs a hand through his air, just enough to obscure his face for a moment, just long enough to allow for a chink in his armor to show. He laughs then, and it's real enough to be true.* Thought you said you weren't hungry? *He's getting up anyway*
Tim: Changed my mind. *He walks closer to Dick this time, savoring it. And totally ignoring the way his hand is kind of... seeping.* Do you even know anyplace to go that isn't pizza?
Dick: *he might notice when he's not busy soaking up Tim's presence, and wondering how much he's grown since he last saw him.* What's wrong with pizza all of a sudden? It's got everything you need. All 5 food groups.
Tim: *shrug* So does lots of things. Weren't you the one tryin' to get me to cut back? *banter, he can do this.*
Dick: Awh, that was ages ago. *totally doesn't count.* Get with the times, Tim. For all your know pizza could be the ONLY food group where I'm from.
What: A reunion, of sorts. Quicklog.
Where: Outside where nobody they know will come looking.
When: Backdated; shortly after Dick's return.
Tim: *can't sneak very well when limping... but he can come out of the house and meet Dick partway, since, uh, he didn't sound so enthusiastic 'bout coming in, over the journals.*
Dick: *Really can't, huh? He heard that floorboard creak. He pockets the Batarang he's sharpening and looks over at the front door, expecting Jilly in all truthfulness. But when there's no key placed in the lock or knock on the door, curiosity sinks in, and Dick pushes himself up from the couch. He pulls back the curtains by a fraction.* Tim! *He pulls the door open and... for a moment doesn't really know what to say. Which, he guesses, is probably why Tim is stood out on the front porch instead of being inside and and having a pot of coffee pushed under his nose. He notes the bum leg.* What happened?
Tim: *shrug. Looks up at for a second - geez, Dick - and away. Bart could be back any minute, he was like that. So, Tim's not coming in.* Stuff. What happened to you? *Luckily his hand is both bandaged and gloved, besides being shoved in his pocket. Pointed.* Thought we were goin' for lunch.
Dick: Yeah, we- *masterfully skating over that personal inquiry there!* I thought I was coming to you? Couldn't wait to see me, huh? *deeerpy smile, although he's trying to rein it in, honest*
Tim: *Huff. Eyeroll. Traces of a smile - feels like he hasn't done that in awhile.* Whatever. C'mon, s'get outta here.
Dick: So where're we going? *Not that he cares and not that he's hungry either. He's just happily falling into step with a much missed little brother. They don't even have to talk, man, seriously.*
Tim: *Y-yeah, kind of his thoughts too. They can just walk along, right? He's getting the hang of hiding the limp from most people (since Stevie's not supposed to have one.) A shrug. Quietly.* Anywhere. *and a little louder* I'm not that hungry, I guess.
Dick: Yeah, the seafood's overrated here anyway. *So they can just hang, right? Awesome. Maybe once they reach the less crowded boardwalk Tim can limp it up a little, or Hell, Dick'll take the initiative and actually sit down so Tim can take a load off.* So who's the guy I owe an ass-kicking to? *a nod to Tim's leg again*
Tim: *He slumps a little into the seat beside Dick, eyes down. The words come quick, and short - but too shaky to be a good block.* We took care of it.
Dick: Oh... *There's something in Tim's voice that tells him there's more to it, but perhaps now is not the time to pry* Well of course you did. *shoulder bump*
Tim: *sharp inhale* And at least the right guy's in the clink this time. *blinks out at the horizon.*
Dick: *That earns a little frown.* Sylar? *His teeth are grit and he bites back a comment about why it's taken so long. Grim;* Good. Let's hope he stays there.
Tim: *shuts his eyes. Stretches his leg.* Yeah. He will.
Dick: Did you ever find out how he was able to...revive like that?
Tim: ... Healing factor. Is the guess. *and now he looks kind of sick to his stomach, hunching away.* Didn't really wanna test it.
Dick: Yeah, guess not, huh? Hey... *he places a hand on the small of Tim's back.* you okay?
Tim: *He keeps curling and uncurling his right hand, where it's laid there. Looking away.* It was an accident, right. You were there- the first time.
Dick: Hey *sympathetic look* still not a mind-reader, Tim. *he rubs his hand just a bit* You can tell me.
Tim: *Yeah, if I wanna get disowned - no. Blackly* Ask Bart. *and veering away from that like it's a ten-mile cliff. Right, delay delay delay.* So what happened at home, huh? You look kinda different yourself.
Dick: *Oh that. That isn't fair. Especially when he gets what Tim's on about now, it just took a moment, okay. He'll also just drop his hand back into his lap... everything he touches, right.* It's not important. *backflipping that topic!!* I'm sure you did what you had to.
Tim: *silence. Yeah. See if you think that way once you go take a look. ...* Don't think you missed much else... haven't seen Bruce in awhile. *tch* Field trips.
Dick: *Whee there's a little stiff shouldered frigidness of his own right now. He also seems to have found what Tim found so interesting out there on the horizon* He's a busy guy.
Tim: *leans back against Dick's side, cautious.* Mm. I'm not worried.
Dick: *exhales. Time to play positive, c'mon go.* Why would you be? *This smile is totally painful and heartbreaking as he turns to Tim* He's Batman.
Tim: *looks back, and up, and... just stares at that for a second, a little crease appearing on his forehead. What...? Okay, no, he doesn't like this, he doesn't like the force that took, and suddenly he's done sitting down.* C'mon. I want lunch.
Dick: *It hurts to hide things from Tim, especially now after... after everything. Dick scrubs a hand through his air, just enough to obscure his face for a moment, just long enough to allow for a chink in his armor to show. He laughs then, and it's real enough to be true.* Thought you said you weren't hungry? *He's getting up anyway*
Tim: Changed my mind. *He walks closer to Dick this time, savoring it. And totally ignoring the way his hand is kind of... seeping.* Do you even know anyplace to go that isn't pizza?
Dick: *he might notice when he's not busy soaking up Tim's presence, and wondering how much he's grown since he last saw him.* What's wrong with pizza all of a sudden? It's got everything you need. All 5 food groups.
Tim: *shrug* So does lots of things. Weren't you the one tryin' to get me to cut back? *banter, he can do this.*
Dick: Awh, that was ages ago. *totally doesn't count.* Get with the times, Tim. For all your know pizza could be the ONLY food group where I'm from.