105 [voice/spam]

[batmanschmatman]

[Filtered to Anyone Who was Involved in Helping the City]

[Dick sounds totally exhausted and a little hollow, but he can't not say something after everything people did, so for now, he's keeping it simple.]

Thank you.

[Spam for Dean]

[He'd dragged himself away from the other people who'd been brought back, hiding on the other side of the deck to make the message because he was still in costume, and he really didn't love that suddenly everyone knew the secret. But once he'd sent it out, he suddenly didn't know what to do next. He hadn't slept in four days. Everything ached, and he honestly wasn't all that sure if he could stand up again if he wanted to, and it wasn't just because he was exhausted. He hadn't wanted to come back. Yes, Gotham was in relatively safer hands than it had been now that Bruce was conclusively back and there was a cure for Titan, but. It was still in trouble. His job was still supposed to be protecting the city. And it had been so long since he'd been home, and seeing it like that had been hard. Being pulled back to the Barge had been like getting the wind knocked out of him, and he didn't know where he was supposed to go from here.

But he couldn't just sit here forever. He needed to get off the deck and out of the suit, and probably get some sleep. Medical attention could wait, and he just really couldn't deal with other people right now anyway. He could think over what needed to happen next after he'd slept.

He peeled off the cowl, took a slow breath and carefully pushed himself to his feet. His vision grayed out for a few seconds and he blinked heavily, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself, wrapping his other arm around his torso. He'd broken a rib at some point before they got pulled back, and it took a minute for his vision to clear.]

[ooc: If anyone wants to drop in and check on him later, feel free to tag in with spam or poke him via the network. He probably didn't bother with the infirmary and will be spending the next couple days on and off napping.]

Comments

[ Spam ]

[surfaceshine]

[It's almost familiar, the worn down, boneweary, lay-down-and-sleep-for-a-week satisfaction of a hard job done as well as it can be; it's not the grim victory of four days with a definitive positive outcome, but they'd fought, and they hadn't lost, and in Dean's book he'll take whatever he can get. He's learned he has to, if he's going to avoid getting discouraged with the odds he and his brother face as hunters - it's no real different, he's discovered, for vigilante superheroes.

He's not sure how he feels about that, but then again, that could be because he's reappeared on the freaking deck of the Barge, and that is highly, highly typical of his luck. One minute he's prioritizing a group of three people in a fistfight he didn't hate his odds to win, the next he's realizing that he may be a little late to the party on the... Oh Christ. He's on the deck, and that is completely unfair because beyond the assorted aches and pains and fatigue, now he's freaking nauseous on top of that, and he slaps a hand to the rail and pointedly does not look over it while he catches up to himself.

His communicator is beeping in his pocket, running overtime, Barge denizens checking on each other and checking in; it rouses him back to himself, and Dean keeps his anxiety firmly in check as he sets his jaw and opens his eyes. This is ridiculous. He can do this.

No, wait, what's ridiculous is that Batman is standing a short ways down the deck from him, and then it's not Batman at all, it's Dick, and Dean is about to say something when the other man sways in a way he recognizes immediately. Maybe not the exact cause, but he knows someone overstepping themselves when he sees it.

He's not exactly sure how he gets from where he was to grabbing for Dick's arm, steadying him with a strong grip while he tries to see if it's a visible injury causing the problem, or something more subtle. Either way, there's something Dean has always found useful in these types of situations, and it is always ready to hand: annoy them.]

Easy there, dude, I think you're cut off. No more adventures for you.

Filter.

[some_kinda_hero]

Of course. Have you even slept yet, Dick?

[She's concerned.]

[spam!]

[wemaketheworld]

[When Dick gets back to his room there's a vigilante lurking in the dark. Sorry? He wanted to chat. Or something.

...he also wanted to raid your cabinets. Because clearly he's too cool for the actual cafeteria.]

[SPAM]

[slayage]

[Buffy arrives at Dick's door dressed in sweatpants, slippers, and a t-shirt. It's lazy day, okay? Everyone's exhausted. She knows Dick must be beyond exhausted and if he's anything like her or Dean, well..

So she's brought some caffeine-free herbal tea and cookies.

And maybe a first aid kit. Okay, definitely a first aid kit.

Buffy's nursing only minor scrapes and bruises. A slice on her forehead already closed, a claw-like scratch on her left arm, and a couple of tiny bruises scattered throughout.]

Private - I know she can't see any of this but it saves me posting just for Dick >>

[chlorophylliac]

Rumor had it he was dying. Poisoned by the afteraffects of excessive Titan use. It would account for the erratic behavior of his underlings.

[She sounds grimly satisfied rather than pleased, per se.]

Filter

[strangehistorian]

Are you alright?