batmanschmatman | 064 [voice]

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.]

[There's no judgment on his face as he finished mopping up the blood and cleaning the cuts, noticing there's a fair bit of swelling - which will mean they'll need ice - but it doesn't look broken.] It's not so bad. Your wrist is okay? You can feel all your fingers?

What? [He looks more confused by the question than anything else.] Yeah, I can feel my fingers. Why wouldn't I be able to feel them?

Just making sure. [And he's quiet while he bandages the injury, carefully wrapping it up so that it's as tight as possible, while still allowing for a little mobility.] I'll go get an icepack to help with the swelling.

You don't have to... [But Dick's already gone to get an icepack, and he's left alone again. When he comes back, David's looking down at his sneakers. He's silent for a bit, and then:] Sorry about all the trouble. That was a pretty dumbass thing to do, I guess.

It's no trouble. Seriously. [He hands over the icepack and sits down next to him again.] This will help with the swelling. And hey, I've done a lot worse to my hand hitting stuff because I was angry, so I'm not really in a good place to judge.

"I'm just so sick of this," [he mutters the words, a little more softly than he had before in the CES.] "What's the point? What's the point in any of this? People are just gonna keep disappearing. Maybe back home, maybe to oblivion. We can't even confront the Admiral about it, because no one can even find him."

[Dick really doesn't want to talk about it, because he's beating himself up over Costigan being gone enough as is, but he can tell David kind of needs to, and so he doesn't change the subject.] I know it sucks. But that's sort of how it is back home, too. People die, people vanish, people leave, and the rest of us have to figure out a way to keep going when they're gone. No one's saying we need to forget about them, or that we shouldn't care that they're gone. I'll always miss the people I've lost. At least here, sometimes we get to say goodbye first.

[It was very similar to something he'd told Costigan when Mal and Howie had left, and it made the loss seem almost more painful when he realized it, but he didn't say anything about it to David. He wasn't really ready to cheerfully reminisce about his inmate.]

[Listening to Dick, David's uncomfortably reminded of the chat he listened in on between Rachel and her sister Jordan, the one where she tried to comfort Jordan after Saddler went into the PICU. Not because of the words themselves, but because it's all too easy to imagine Dick one day finding out what he did that day. He keeps all that off this face, though.] Yeah, but there at least it makes some kind of sense. Here, nothing makes sense. We can die and come back. So if the Admiral has that kind of power, why can't he just keep people from leaving? It's stupid.

[He knows he sounds petulant, perhaps even a little childish, but it's also how he feels.]

I don't know. Maybe he can only bring people in and fix them while they're here, but he can't control when they vanish. There must be some force here that's higher than him. [It was all just speculation, and it didn't change the fact that Costigan was gone, and either one of them might be gone by tomorrow morning. He couldn't even remember what the last thing he'd said to Costigan was, had nothing to remember him by. He'd lost plenty of friends in the line of duty, and it hurt every time.]

It... kind of makes you realize you need to appreciate what you have when you have it.

... I'd never really lost anyone before I got here. [David admits it quietly, not really proud of it. Not when he considers who it is who's standing in front of him.] Before my life fell apart, I mean. I lost my grandma when I was young, but I was only four years old, so I barely even remember her, you know? [He sighs, blowing air out his mouth.] I could deal with it if people were just dropping dead. It'd suck, but I could deal. But this... disappearing without anywhere? It's fucked up.

So's dying unexpectedly. [A subject that Dick knows way too much about.]

It's one of those things where being angry about it forever doesn't do anything except make you miserable.

So what are we supposed to do, just sit back and keep letting it happen? [He looks up at Dick, his face twisted, but it's more with frustration than anger. He's used to being able to do something about his problems. But there's nothing here to push back against.]

064 [voice]

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