bludhavenknight | In Character Inbox

Roy's gone.

Gone gone, or just not checking in?

Gone as in disappeared, like people do from here when they "leave". The suite's empty. I checked the entire turtle already, gonna do another sweep just in case. Care to keep me company?

Shit. Yeah, I'd like that. Any preference, or is drowning sorrows good enough?

Edited 2013-09-22 06:56 (UTC)

Whatever you're up for. I've got beer.

Left a message for Dinah, she's gonna need the company too.

Come on over to my place. I have more then just beer. Want her to come over, too, or should we get her later?

I think we should save some for her, but she might want some space to process.

What time's good?

I can do that. How about in an hour or so? I'm not going anywhere.

Sounds good. Heading over now.

See you soon.

[There's a small, wrapped present on Dick's table one particular night. No card. No expression of sentiment. The present is wrapped in kedan newspaper, although it does have a very beautiful, artful bow in blue ribbon.]

[It's his birthday today. At least, he believes it's his birthday, because who knows truly with this place, but from his reckoning, it's his birthday. He still had work, though, and he wasn't going to just go around telling people it was his birthday. Even if he wanted to. Though maybe he shouldn't because of his age?

Let's go with Babs' old standby: this was his twenty-second birthday, again. So he'd bought food that no one could tell him not to eat, and he was debating on who he could call to eat about half of it when he got to his apartment, and oh wow is that a present?

Yes. That is a present. Though he does check it for ticking sounds, any unknown heat radiating from it, making sure there aren't any wires hidden anywhere, etc, because that's just good sense. Then it's unwrapped quickly, and... it's a plain coffee mug? No, wait, turn it around to see the symbol, and there we go.

It's a Nightwing coffee mug. This is an awesome gift! Sitting in the chair closest to him, he starts laughing.]

This is great. [He says it mostly to himself as he checks it over again. Still no note, but maybe he could dust it for prints before he uses it. Naw, not bothering with that.]

[Bruce, of course, doesn't come to survey his handiwork in person. He's never been good with gifts, preferring they be small and utilitarian to anything grandiose. He spent longer than he'd like to admit trying to think of something to get him, discarding ideas (a glider? Like the one he'd used in Blüdhaven? Or maybe he could perfect a recipe for cornflakes...) and settled on something he thinks Alfred might have liked.

And then he does what every father does on the birthday of a child, he spends it patrolling, and rather conspicuously avoiding the area where Dick lives, because he doesn't like the idea of having to acknowledge Dick's acknowledgement of his having remembered his birthday.

Still. He sits, perched on a nearby rooftop, watching through the window to ensure Dick actually opens it, before he wings away.]

Edited 2013-11-20 16:00 (UTC)

[Like he didn't see someone watching him through the window. It's a little better then him just appearing in his apartment, though, so maybe he won't have to install an alarm or something.

But this does answer who it was from. And suddenly the mug, already precious and loved, turned into something to be treasured. Forever. Something, maybe special coffee blends used if coffee is in this mug. Something. Maybe no one will ever use it, besides Dick.

He needs to see him. Just for a moment, even, and while he may have been a little tired, this simple mug has him energized. He races to pull on the Nightwing suit, making sure the mask sits right, tools at ready (have to be prepared for anything), and he's out the window, swinging up on the roof. He has to catch up to him or something.

Dick needs to see this man, out of all people, on today, of all days.]

[Bruce is perched on one of the gargoyles in the Fire Sector, overseeing a street that's been remarkably quiet all night. Perhaps it's the changing weather that has everyone holed up in their homes, honest citizens and hooligans alike, but it's made for very boring patrols these last few nights, and tonight isn't offering the exception he'd hoped it would.

He's been sitting there for almost an hour when he senses the presence behind him. Of all the people he's worked with through the years, he's memorized the cadence of Dick's near-silent footfalls perhaps best of all.

So he doesn't turn.]

Your patrol's over, Nightwing.

[What are you doing here?]

[He'll never surprise him like that, and Dick has already resigned himself to that fact. One time, he did pull the disappearing act on Batman, and that was amazing, and probably never heard of again.

But Dick has always loved this time of the year... well, whenever it gets colder then usual. Spring and Winter are the favorites, and it's not winter just yet. But he can definitely visualize it happening.

Dick takes a perch next to him, always looking forward. It was like this, a lot, and he'd learned that if he was the one looking at him, then it became uncomfortable when Bruce didn't look back.]

Good thing I'm not on patrol, then.

[Still, he's grinning with that quick retort. A nice leftover from his younger, Robin, days. Every time he celebrates a birthday, it's a reminder of who he was, who he is, and who he could become. And the good feelings to them were from...]

It's pretty slow tonight, I thought you could use the company.

[That earns a hn from Bruce, and for a while not much else. He says nothing, he merely continues to survey the city, which is still and quiet. Peaceful, almost, if he had to put a word to it. Keeliai is... peaceful.

It's been that way, with some exceptions, for over a year. Bruce has never been so long in a single place without an escalated form of conflict. He still doesn't know what to do with being here, there are entire nights that pass by crimelessly. Bruce doesn't remember the last time he was shot, any and all stab wounds he's received here have been easily treated and dealt with. The worst injury he's sustained was nearly a year ago to the day, when one of the llothi got its claws into him and rent his skin down to the bone. The gashes weren't as bad as the infection that followed, he barely made it home and his recovery time was abysmal.

Sometimes, he thinks this place doesn't need Batman at all.

He looks askance at Dick. Then he points at a building out in the city, one of the taller ones in the Fire sector.]

First one there wins.

[Because everything, even casually hanging out, can be taken as training.]

[At the door, there’s a crate, glowing a faint green, the Corps insignia emblazoned on it. When touched it emits a quiet whirr, that of a scanner, the AI announces VERIFIED. GRAYSON, RICHARD. , and promptly floats into the living room, where the glow vanishes. Inside, there’s rows of bottles with variously coloured liquids. Some are alcoholic, and marked as such.]

[Attached is a note:]

Thought you might want to try some. If you find any you like, I'll get more during future shore leaves when we're home.

- GL 2814.4

[Batman isn't talkative. He doesn't give out catchphrases and insults. He's supposed to be there, and kick ass, and be really, really intimidating. Robin is the talker, the remark person. Dick has never let that go, but at least he's now learned how to control himself, a little bit, from rambling.

Outside of his head, of course. There was a lot of time spent in his head these days. Dick has always had fun with his crime fighting, and without much to do with it... there were too many nights spent flipping and jumping across buildings then actually fighting.

There were just too many superheroes/masked vigilantes in this place. Dick looks at Bruce, and then follows where he's pointing, then looks back with a grin.

First one there wins. He loves these kind of things.] Readysetgo.

[He takes off while he was saying it, diving down, shooting up, swinging away: this is what he lived for.]

Edited 2013-12-05 08:08 (UTC)

[And because it's his birthday, Bruce lets him win.]

[When Bruce gets there (and he can't ever be too far behind), Dick is walking along the edge of the building, arms folded.]

Come on, like I don't know when you're holding back. [He's still grinning, though. God, but he really has missed this. It felt like things were getting into some sense of normal until it all got fucked up.]

Not as bad as pulling punches, but close. [He rolls back into a quick handstand before settling himself down onto the edge.]

Hey, where did you get this? And what is it? Are you leaving me to try these all by myself?

At the auctions; it's stuff from Oa, still fresh. Weird, huh?

I get enough of these at home, but if you want company, I'm available.

[He smiles, just a little. The tiniest upward quirk of his mouth, there and gone in the time it takes him to rattle a confession out of a garden variety thug.]

Enjoy it.

[His tone is a slight warning. Amused, though.]

It only happens once a year.

[Surprise, wherever Dick is, Bruce is suddenly also. And, assuming they're alone...]

You told Hayley about Jason. Why?

[... He's just sort of assuming it was Dick. Of all his children, he best fits the profile for someone who would try to build a happy family image of all of them.]

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oh man they have the same icon ;A;

because father and son feelings always ;-;

delivery | landfall

I literally did not hit send ><

I do that so often

ffffffff Bruce what dhsgdds

[pretend this is from same day and all]

[timey wimey]

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