Not many would describe the Batcave as being 'homey', 'cozy' or any other adjective that denoted 'warm and welcoming'. Tim wasn't just anyone however
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Alfred balances the tray of cocoa and cookies in one hand - deftly, mind you - and returns the embrace, one-armed, quite warmly for a moment before clearing his throat again. "Here now, Master Timothy," he says softly, "your cocoa is getting cold..."
Pretty much the motto around her. It's a reassuring bit of bedrock to find actually.
Untangling himself from Alfred, Tim straighten his scored and torn vest. The armored inner lining is showing and his cape has a number of conspicuous bullet holes.
Taking the cocoa and an oatmeal cookie. "Thanks Alfred. It's good to be home again."
"I think that's crap, Tim. Waller doesn't know, probably doesn't care as much as figuring out the identities of the powered heroes like Supes."
The strong scent of grilled meat and roasting vegetables floats in from the direction of the kitchen, and Dick's stomach rumbles. "I don't know that I want to know what's going on with Shiva, but I guess my thought is that you can run point with the Titans for me for a while. If you think you're up for it."
Sometimes Dick gets a glimpse of how he must have looked to Bruce back when he wore the red and green of Batman's sidekick, and this is one of those moments. He suppresses a smile, then a frown, and rather suddenly he feels like crying with anger and frustration at his mentor's absence.
Shaking loose the dark thought, Dick opens the door to his room and notes, "Well, I guess it means sort of subbing for me in a leadership role. Vic's had a hard time of it lately; he needs some help. Think you can do that, squirt?"
Alfred is hovering close behind Tim, where his expression cannot be seen. His tone is even gentle when he remonstrates, "Now, Master Timothy, mind that you chew before swallowing."
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Oh, and the aroma of chocolate chip cookies is in the air too.
A throat is cleared, and then with only the barest quiver in it, an English voice says, "Welcome home, young sir."
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He wants to greet Alfred. Say 'Hi'..say something, but his voice is lost to him right now.
His face is oddly wet. Not sure why, but Tim closes the distance between them and catches the taller man in a hug that communicates volumes.
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Stiff upper lip, all that.
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It's a reassuring bit of bedrock to find actually.
Untangling himself from Alfred, Tim straighten his scored and torn vest. The armored inner lining is showing and his cape has a number of conspicuous bullet holes.
Taking the cocoa and an oatmeal cookie. "Thanks Alfred. It's good to be home again."
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The strong scent of grilled meat and roasting vegetables floats in from the direction of the kitchen, and Dick's stomach rumbles. "I don't know that I want to know what's going on with Shiva, but I guess my thought is that you can run point with the Titans for me for a while. If you think you're up for it."
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Then Dick's last comment gets processed.
"ME?"
Tim clears his throat.
"*ahem* I mean.. me?" The tone carries more of an eager quality to it than anything else.
"Absolutely. Yes. You can count on me for anything. Anytime....but umm.. What kind of duties are we talking about."
Wait. That might have come out wrong.
"I mean, I just want to be sure I don't miss anything." he quickly qualifies.
Run point with the Titans. Freakin cool.
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Shaking loose the dark thought, Dick opens the door to his room and notes, "Well, I guess it means sort of subbing for me in a leadership role. Vic's had a hard time of it lately; he needs some help. Think you can do that, squirt?"
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Tim's ready to dodge as the impish grin spreads across his features.
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Right now he'd be hard pressed to think of anyone that can outcook Alfred.
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He spies his napkin and quickly places it on his lap.
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