Dick Grayson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
batmanschmatman) wrote2012-09-29 02:59 pm
batmanschmatman) wrote2012-09-29 02:59 pm
Entry tags:
- [game]: lastvoyages,
- [verse]: canon,
- babs complicates things,
- cass i'm sorry i'm a terrible brother :c,
- cindy & marsha are the best bradys,
- doesn't the helmet get uncomfortable,
- i have the best little brother,
- i'm the goddamn batman apparently,
- i'm watching a watchman :|,
- nightwing not nite owl,
- sara and i are totally normal cops,
- so that's why superboy's an inmate
121 [spam/voice]
[Spam for Sara, backdated to after this log.]
[After dragging himself to the infirmary and getting patched up, Dick had been pretty insistent that he just wanted to go back to his room and sleep it off there rather than being held hostage in the infirmary. So, with doctor's approval, he limped down the hall and, instead of taking the stairs up to the first floor, went right to Sara's room and knocked on the door, too tired to care if anyone else was walking through the hall and wondering why the hell he was wearing blue hospital scrubs with a Batman uniform mostly tucked under one arm, the cape trailing on the floor, and looking like he'd had the crap beaten out of him.
He was holding the boots and cowl in his good hand - the other was in a cast that hopefully wouldn't have to be on too long between magic and the tech they had on board - and after he'd knocked, he carefully moved to prop himself up against the wall to hopefully prevent falling on his ass. Getting up again from that really just sounded awful.]
[Private to Tim]
I just got my ass handed to me by Superboy, so I'm going to be passed out at Sara's for a while. But if you need me for anything, give me a ring.
[Private to Rorschach]
I'm going to be sleeping off a broken wrist and some busted ribs for the next ten or so hours, so feel free to ask Tim if you need anything in the mean time.
[Private to Cass]
[After they've both had some time to recuperate, Dick is realizing they probably need to have a discussion about the whole "Why I was wearing Dad's pajamas" thing.]
We should talk.
[Private to Babs]
I'm guessing you got an update on what happened.
[Spam for Erik]
[Most people would probably think he was a complete idiot for not kicking back and taking it easy after almost getting killed by an out of control alien, but Dick didn't really do downtime and usually started getting a little stir crazy after he'd gotten over the initial period of I just want to sleep for a week and pretend I never have to get out of bed again.
Which was why the day after it had happened, he was up and about as usual, and currently mentally swearing a little over having to balance his lunch tray with one hand. The other was in a cast in a sling to help keep it out of the way, and his ribs still hurt like hell, but it could have gone a lot worse, really, so he pushed aside the discomfort and looked around for somewhere to sit.
He spotted Erik by himself, and - potentially against his better judgment, because it wasn't like you could really just walk up to someone and ask how they were doing because their breach counterpart had really reminded you of your old inmate - he headed over to him and gestured at the seat across from him. Or, you know, as best he could while holding a lunch tray in one arm with his other in a sling.]
Do you mind if I sit here?
[After dragging himself to the infirmary and getting patched up, Dick had been pretty insistent that he just wanted to go back to his room and sleep it off there rather than being held hostage in the infirmary. So, with doctor's approval, he limped down the hall and, instead of taking the stairs up to the first floor, went right to Sara's room and knocked on the door, too tired to care if anyone else was walking through the hall and wondering why the hell he was wearing blue hospital scrubs with a Batman uniform mostly tucked under one arm, the cape trailing on the floor, and looking like he'd had the crap beaten out of him.
He was holding the boots and cowl in his good hand - the other was in a cast that hopefully wouldn't have to be on too long between magic and the tech they had on board - and after he'd knocked, he carefully moved to prop himself up against the wall to hopefully prevent falling on his ass. Getting up again from that really just sounded awful.]
[Private to Tim]
I just got my ass handed to me by Superboy, so I'm going to be passed out at Sara's for a while. But if you need me for anything, give me a ring.
[Private to Rorschach]
I'm going to be sleeping off a broken wrist and some busted ribs for the next ten or so hours, so feel free to ask Tim if you need anything in the mean time.
[Private to Cass]
[After they've both had some time to recuperate, Dick is realizing they probably need to have a discussion about the whole "Why I was wearing Dad's pajamas" thing.]
We should talk.
[Private to Babs]
I'm guessing you got an update on what happened.
[Spam for Erik]
[Most people would probably think he was a complete idiot for not kicking back and taking it easy after almost getting killed by an out of control alien, but Dick didn't really do downtime and usually started getting a little stir crazy after he'd gotten over the initial period of I just want to sleep for a week and pretend I never have to get out of bed again.
Which was why the day after it had happened, he was up and about as usual, and currently mentally swearing a little over having to balance his lunch tray with one hand. The other was in a cast in a sling to help keep it out of the way, and his ribs still hurt like hell, but it could have gone a lot worse, really, so he pushed aside the discomfort and looked around for somewhere to sit.
He spotted Erik by himself, and - potentially against his better judgment, because it wasn't like you could really just walk up to someone and ask how they were doing because their breach counterpart had really reminded you of your old inmate - he headed over to him and gestured at the seat across from him. Or, you know, as best he could while holding a lunch tray in one arm with his other in a sling.]
Do you mind if I sit here?
Private
[It is assuring, in its way, and she supposes she means it in more than one.]
Any messages you want me to take?
Private
Besides get well soon? Nah. I told her I'd be down to see her once I'm feeling less like I got hit by a car. Remind me to never leave the house without a Kryptonite gun ever again.
Private
I think Kal might get tetchy at you. [She'd say Clark, usually, but - she never entirely trusts filters that she didn't make herself.]
...You have any idea what triggered this? [The anger's still there, simmering in her chest, but she knows better than to direct it at Kon.]
Private
No. Dean's working on it, but I was a little more focused on getting people to the infirmary in one piece and not falling on my face. He'd probably know more than me by now.