[It's soft, gentle. More akin to trying to wrangle a skittish animal, than any way he'd addressed Damian before. The child he'd known, that he'd so unintentionally left behind- he'd been so full of pride, so brittle- the last thing he would have accepted from Dick was to be treated as any other child his age. He would have seen it as patronizing. More than anything, he'd wanted acceptance. Respect. He'd wanted to be seen as Dick's equal, his partner. Robin as useful to Batman as Batman was to him. He'd have lashed out at the tone and Dick would have lost any chance to help.
He'd had to make his affections more subtle, easier to swallow, until Damian slowly learned to see them for what they were. He'd had to speak to Damian as if he knew Damian could handle it on his own- and is if he were doing Dick a favour by not doing so. This? This is something else entirely.
This is no longer a child, but a fully fledged teenager. Something he'd missed watching happen, in this world and the other- apparently. This is a teenager that must have lost everything, lost his father and his replacement one all in one go. The way he looks at Dick- the way he speaks, it's so much more than grief. He looks haunted.
If there's one useful thing that came from his conversation with Jason, it was this. To know what he was walking into, to not be able to mistake Damian for anyone else- he'd be hard pressed to, with the way he's shot up in height, not quite enough to match Bruce or Jason, but still tall. The colouring, that slope to his nose- it's Damian and Dick doesn't have to wonder precisely how long that coma had been.
Just has to wonder how to navigate something like this without sending him running in the other direction. He'd barely known Bruce, when he'd died and he'd been left with Dick, because the last thing he was going to do, was send the boy back to his mother. He can see that the same is not true of them. Damian had loved him, when he'd lost him.
He bridges the distance between them, scant as it is- and pauses. Mouth opening slightly, and then closing again. Reaches out, instead, with both hands first, and tries again]
this is so fucking rude
[It's soft, gentle. More akin to trying to wrangle a skittish animal, than any way he'd addressed Damian before. The child he'd known, that he'd so unintentionally left behind- he'd been so full of pride, so brittle- the last thing he would have accepted from Dick was to be treated as any other child his age. He would have seen it as patronizing. More than anything, he'd wanted acceptance. Respect. He'd wanted to be seen as Dick's equal, his partner. Robin as useful to Batman as Batman was to him. He'd have lashed out at the tone and Dick would have lost any chance to help.
He'd had to make his affections more subtle, easier to swallow, until Damian slowly learned to see them for what they were. He'd had to speak to Damian as if he knew Damian could handle it on his own- and is if he were doing Dick a favour by not doing so. This? This is something else entirely.
This is no longer a child, but a fully fledged teenager. Something he'd missed watching happen, in this world and the other- apparently. This is a teenager that must have lost everything, lost his father and his replacement one all in one go. The way he looks at Dick- the way he speaks, it's so much more than grief. He looks haunted.
If there's one useful thing that came from his conversation with Jason, it was this. To know what he was walking into, to not be able to mistake Damian for anyone else- he'd be hard pressed to, with the way he's shot up in height, not quite enough to match Bruce or Jason, but still tall. The colouring, that slope to his nose- it's Damian and Dick doesn't have to wonder precisely how long that coma had been.
Just has to wonder how to navigate something like this without sending him running in the other direction. He'd barely known Bruce, when he'd died and he'd been left with Dick, because the last thing he was going to do, was send the boy back to his mother. He can see that the same is not true of them. Damian had loved him, when he'd lost him.
He bridges the distance between them, scant as it is- and pauses. Mouth opening slightly, and then closing again. Reaches out, instead, with both hands first, and tries again]
Come here. [Still soft, still quiet]