batmanschmatman | 064 [voice]

I'm sick of seeing people I... decent people, keep vanishing. [David rounds to face Dick, and the frustration, the impotent fury, is written all over his face. He's not good at hiding his feelings at the best of times, and certainly isn't any better at it now.]

I wanna do something about it. Arthas says there's nothing I can do, he says that the Admiral himself can't do anything about it, but if he can't, this stupid place shouldn't even exist!

Edited 2011-09-10 02:54 (UTC)

I don't know how it works either, David. I wish I did. [Dick's voice is very flat, almost but not quite defeated. At this point, he's seriously considering changing his deal to rescue Costigan anyway, but there's a part of him that wonders if that's selfish and not fair to the people he'd originally signed himself away for.]

It's not that right! It's...

[David looks away, deflating a little at the dull apathy in Dick's voice. Crane's words about the Barge beating everybody down are a lot harder to dismiss now.]

Costigan wasn't a lost cause. He was doing fine. Hell, he was practically more of a warden than Bourne was! [He whirls, fist drawn, and swings at the nearest tree trunk. There's a dull thunk as his fist hits the wood.]

Edited 2011-09-10 04:03 (UTC)

[That shocks Dick out of his stupor immediately, and he crosses the distance between them quickly, brow furrowed in concern because he is an expert at punching things when angry, and that sounded like it hurt.]

Woah, David, hey! Calm down. Let me see your hand.

I'm fine!

[David grits his teeth as he talks to keep from hissing; that did hurt but he'll be damned if he admits it. He holds his hand close to him, half-not wanting Dick to look at it and half-not wanting to look at it himself. As much as it hurts, he wants to punch the tree again. The release had been way too brief.]

Come on. Please? [His voice and expression are gentle, honestly concerned about what the angry teenager's done to his hand. He doesn't move to touch him though, since he doesn't know David well enough to know how he'd respond while this angry.]

[In all honesty, David's not used to that kind of concern, and he's not sure how to respond to it. So after a moment of angry glaring, he relents and drops his eyes.] ... Fine, whatever. [Slowly, he moves his hand out from under his other arm and holds it out. It's still balled into a fist - he punched that tree pretty hard, and his knuckles are bleeding copiously.]

[Dick hisses in sympathy at the sight of the injury, and immediately starts thinking of the best solution.] Okay. We need to get you cleaned up. I'm guessing this isn't something you want to go to the infirmary for?

[Just an hunch. And Dick's got plenty of medical supplies in his room to help patch him up.]

It's no big deal. [David tucks his hand back under his arm again the moment Dick lets it go. He feels a little embarrassed by the vigilante warden's scrutiny.] I'll be fine, just forget about it.

David, you're bleeding like crazy. You might need stitches. [It's always been a lot easier to fret over other people being hurt than being fretted over himself.] Come on, let's get a bandage on that and we can come back here when it's done.

I'm not gonna need stitches. [Oh God. He can just see it now. Perry would never let him live it down. Hell, Bourne would never let him live it down.] I'll be fine, I'll... [he sighs.] ... you're not gonna let this go, are you?

[Dick's mouth quirks into a small smile, although the air of sadness and just emptiness brought on by the loss was still there, and would be for quite some time, in all likelihood.] No. Come on, it'll take five minutes. Fifteen, tops. Buy us enough time to come up with a cool war story for it.

Alright, alright. As long as I don't have to go to the infirmary. [His frustration and bitterness over everything that's happened is now compounded by confusion; someone being concerned about him is so rare that he's not quite sure how to respond to it. It wouldn't even be a problem if I still had my powers.

[Dick starts leading the way back - not that they were far from the exit - keeping an eye on David as he does so. This is actually helping ground him, just like someone needing his help always does. It gives him something to focus on other than how upset he is.] What do you mean?

Morphing heals you every time you do it. [He's still keeping his clenched fist tucked under his arm as he walks, uncertain whether he's frustrated at Bourne, the Admiral, or himself most.] I could morph something and morph back and my hand would be fine.

Neat trick. Wish I could do that. [He heads out of the CES, making sure David's still following, and since his room's on the first floor, it's really not much of a walk. If David's lucky, no one will even notice he's messed up his hand.]

If I still had the blue box you could. [He follows along a few steps behind Dick, too caught up in bitter thoughts to think about watching what he says. He's never been to Dick's room before, and is surprised when they stop on the first floor.]

You're on the same floor as Tim. That's convenient. [He's been to Tim's room, once before. So he's expecting something similar here.]

[Dick files that away to ask about later as he walks over to unlock his door.] Yeah, it makes harassing each other easier. Not shabby for crisis situations either.

[He opens the door to his room, which is actually a lot different from Tim's. The younger vigilante was actually living in Dick's old room at the manor, while Dick's was one of the penthouses in Gotham they used as a place to crash if they were too tired to make it back home on patrol. It was nice, sleek and sort of expensive looking, and Dick honestly feels a little uncomfortable in it sometimes, but the piles of books and DVDs and clothes make it look a little more lived in. Dick is a slob.] Feel free to sit down or something, I'll go get the first aid kit.

Wish I had that to say about my room... or anything good to say about it, really. [He follows behind Dick, only to stop dead where he is, gaping around him in fascination that borders on awe. David's always been a little materialistic - for a kid who moved around all the time, possessions came to be anchors - and Dick's room embodies practically all those things he covets - money, power, and most important, security.]

... Nice place. [He tries to be nonchalant about it, but he's obviously impressed, even with all the piles everywhere. It's not like his room wasn't like that back when he had it.] Is this somewhere from Gotham?

[He can tell, and it makes him a little uncomfortable, because even after over a decade, he's still not used to coming from money.] Yeah. Sit tight, I'll be right back.

[He heads off to the bathroom to retrieve the kit, which is pretty well stocked in light of one, how injured people tended to get on the Barge, and also because Costigan's suicide attempt had startled him into being extremely paranoid. He comes back in with another not exactly forced small smile, and sits down on the couch.] Let me see.

Yeah. All right. [He gingerly takes a seat, passing the time mostly by gaping around at all the sleek corners, the tastefully decorated art, and most often, the TV so large it almost takes up one wall. He'd probably cut off a finger for a TV like that.

When Dick comes back he's still got his fist tucked under his arm, a bit more tightly now. He doesn't want to admit it's hurting worse than it was before.] Here. [Slowly he pulls his hand out for Dick to look at. It's bloodier now, and his T-shirt's stained red where he clenched his fist against it. He hasn't tried unballing his fist, mostly because when he tried on the way here... it REALLY hurt.]

Edited 2011-09-10 18:25 (UTC)

[Dick puts on gloves and grabs some disinfectant and gauze to start cleaning the injury, gingerly taking David's wrist and starting to clean him up, noticing he hasn't unclenched his fist.] How bad's the pain level?

It doesn't hurt. [He purses his lips to hide the gritting of his teeth as he slowly tries unclenching his fist. His cheeks quiver from the effort but he's determined not to show any weakness. He'd rather live with the pain than look weak.]

[The vigilante just gives him a look that says 'are you really going to try that on me?'] Relax. It's going to hurt more if you're tense. Can you try uncurling your fingers?

... Yeah. [David lets out the breath he was holding and tries it again. It still hurts, but not as bad as it did before. He winces, but slowly he uncurls his fist.] Fuuuuuccckkk.... [He says the word in a low hiss, unable to keep pretending it doesn't hurt now that he's uncurled all his fingers.]

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