That's all anyone asks him anymore, seems like. The cops, the nuns, the judge in her fancy chair---even Alfred.
Are the clothes, is the food, the room to your liking, Master Dick? If not, there are others...
They keep giving him choices, and there's only one he wants, the only one he can't pick.
The Bat's the only one who gets it. He doesn't ask what Dick wants, he already knows. He doesn't wait for someone else to decide, he makes the choice himself.
"Is there... anything you'd like, Dick?" Bruce Wayne asks. "I've never had--that is, I haven't lived with anyone but Alfred for a long time. I know birthday presents are supposed to be surprises, but--"
"It doesn't matter. I'm not picky." Dick shoves his hands into his pockets and stares out the high windows of Bruce's study at the back garden.
The trees are bare, and so is the ground. Bruce Wayne's gardeners come every day and the leaves never even get the chance to pile up.
"We could go somewhere, if you want. For a week or so?"
Haly's winter quarters are in Florida. His parents... it happened in June. It's November, now. It's winter.
"That's okay," Dick says. "I'd rather train."
"Dick."
He knows Bruce is behind him; thanks to the Bat he even knows where. He wishes the Bat was here, but it's just Bruce and his choices and the clean, bare ground outside.
Bruce steps closer until Dick can see his reflection in the window, just the outline of him. He says, "I didn't want this to become your life as well."
Dick wants to tell him it's not his choice, except it kind of is. He breathes in deep, lets it out and says, "It'd be good to have a full flying rig down there."
For a few really long seconds, he doesn't think Bruce is going to say anything. Then there's a sound like rushing air and Bruce says, "All right. It's almost six. Go tell Alfred I'll be fifteen minutes late for dinner."
Dick nods and without looking at Bruce, turns and wanders out of the room.
Totally influenced by Dark Victory...
That's all anyone asks him anymore, seems like. The cops, the nuns, the judge in her fancy chair---even Alfred.
Are the clothes, is the food, the room to your liking, Master Dick? If not, there are others...
They keep giving him choices, and there's only one he wants, the only one he can't pick.
The Bat's the only one who gets it. He doesn't ask what Dick wants, he already knows. He doesn't wait for someone else to decide, he makes the choice himself.
"Is there... anything you'd like, Dick?" Bruce Wayne asks. "I've never had--that is, I haven't lived with anyone but Alfred for a long time. I know birthday presents are supposed to be surprises, but--"
"It doesn't matter. I'm not picky." Dick shoves his hands into his pockets and stares out the high windows of Bruce's study at the back garden.
The trees are bare, and so is the ground. Bruce Wayne's gardeners come every day and the leaves never even get the chance to pile up.
"We could go somewhere, if you want. For a week or so?"
Haly's winter quarters are in Florida. His parents... it happened in June. It's November, now. It's winter.
"That's okay," Dick says. "I'd rather train."
"Dick."
He knows Bruce is behind him; thanks to the Bat he even knows where. He wishes the Bat was here, but it's just Bruce and his choices and the clean, bare ground outside.
Bruce steps closer until Dick can see his reflection in the window, just the outline of him. He says, "I didn't want this to become your life as well."
Dick wants to tell him it's not his choice, except it kind of is. He breathes in deep, lets it out and says, "It'd be good to have a full flying rig down there."
For a few really long seconds, he doesn't think Bruce is going to say anything. Then there's a sound like rushing air and Bruce says, "All right. It's almost six. Go tell Alfred I'll be fifteen minutes late for dinner."
Dick nods and without looking at Bruce, turns and wanders out of the room.
He never liked Florida much, anyway.