(Untitled)

[terminates]

Who: Slade Wilson and Dick Grayson
What: Two old enemies chat. Hopefully with less punching this time around.
When: The night of June 4th.
Where: The deck.
Warnings: Noooone?

Comments

*Hopefully* less punching? :C

[batmanschmatman]

Dick was - had been? - in a pretty decent mood. Pretty decent, in that while he still had plenty of issues that needed addressing, he was happily ignoring them, everyone he cared about was more or less okay, and there wasn't some sort of crisis situation ripping the Barge apart outside of the recent warden drama that he had elected to stay out of for the sake of his own sanity.

So, needing something to do and preferring it had some kind of physical activity involved, he was on deck for a run. But, before he'd even actually started running, he spotted a familiar figure on deck, meditating, and against his better judgment, after a moment's pause and hesitation, he slowly approached.

This situation felt familiar. But this time, he wasn't stressed out and spiraling, and really, that whole thing had been a mistake. Of course, this could be too, but he had made up his mind that this was something he had to do.

He stopped about ten feet from Slade, enough to give him space, but still close enough to have a conversation.

"Hey."

One never knows with these two. :c

[terminates]

He heard him coming, as aware of his surroundings as he always was (if not more so). There weren't very many on the Barge he'd bother acknowledging, not like this, but Grayson -- well, if anyone earned it, he had.

His eye slipped open, meeting Dick's gaze with a cool look. Not hostile or cold, but...neutral. There's an unspoken question in his stare as well.

Why?

sob so true :c

[batmanschmatman]

Dick knew why, but that didn't make it necessarily easier to say. He'd never be able to forgive Slade for what he'd done, just like he'd probably never forgive himself for it, but he'd been out of line, and it hadn't been excusable. He was supposed to be better than that, and Slade hadn't made the first move at all. Dick was at fault for approaching him about it and for letting him get to him, and he'd been the one to throw the first punch.

"I wanted... I wanted to say sorry. For provoking and - uh- attacking you, back in March."

At least they're not both pissy?

[terminates]

He blinked.

Of all the things the kid could have said, that was the least expected. Granted, two months was a pretty fair amount of time to cool down, but an apology -- it was odd. Unnatural, even, given how much the two of them were generally at each others' throats.

The silence stretched, a little long than he wanted it to, before he finally answered.

"It's fine."

He got over it a while ago.