[He looks. It's instinctive. After years of honing skills relating to situational and spacial awareness, the second the fabric tears and the metal bar clangs and echoes in the large space- he's had to see what happened. In situations he's more familiar with, the sound of striking ground would be the cause for concern. Would be someone in an altercation-
It's not. It's just Steph having an altercation with her own sense of balance and the reality of gravity, who's rules so vary rarely apply to him. Unfortunately, the sound rings out before her trying to smooth over the situation and warn him-
He catches a glimpse of miles of long, pinking skin from the heat of the shower, and a generous helping of soft curves- before his brain stops stumbling over the shock and catches up to what his eyes are seeing. He slaps a hand over them so fast and so hard that it stings- and waits a minute for her to get herself slightly situated. Hopefully with a helpful curtain toga.
Dick has a few seconds of inner debate, before he's feeling around for the small towel he'd been repurposing as a wash cloth and makes a quick tuck of it in and around his waist. It's short, but it'll make due enough for this. It's slow, and careful that he makes his way over to her, he's ridden blindfolded on top of a train, so he's confident he can manage it.
He's equally confident in seeing her in action, that if he leaves her to her own devices- she's going to spend the next ten minutes sliding around on the tile trying to get enough grip to heave herself up and he's pretty sure they're both beyond prolonging this, than they have to.
He stops when he feels the cold bar of the metal against his bare toes, curling them away instinctively, before he juts his free hand out and slightly down, carefully. The last thing he wants to do is smack her in the face on top of this- and braces his feet in preparation]
hovers over delete account
[He looks. It's instinctive. After years of honing skills relating to situational and spacial awareness, the second the fabric tears and the metal bar clangs and echoes in the large space- he's had to see what happened. In situations he's more familiar with, the sound of striking ground would be the cause for concern. Would be someone in an altercation-
It's not. It's just Steph having an altercation with her own sense of balance and the reality of gravity, who's rules so vary rarely apply to him. Unfortunately, the sound rings out before her trying to smooth over the situation and warn him-
He catches a glimpse of miles of long, pinking skin from the heat of the shower, and a generous helping of soft curves- before his brain stops stumbling over the shock and catches up to what his eyes are seeing. He slaps a hand over them so fast and so hard that it stings- and waits a minute for her to get herself slightly situated. Hopefully with a helpful curtain toga.
Dick has a few seconds of inner debate, before he's feeling around for the small towel he'd been repurposing as a wash cloth and makes a quick tuck of it in and around his waist. It's short, but it'll make due enough for this. It's slow, and careful that he makes his way over to her, he's ridden blindfolded on top of a train, so he's confident he can manage it.
He's equally confident in seeing her in action, that if he leaves her to her own devices- she's going to spend the next ten minutes sliding around on the tile trying to get enough grip to heave herself up and he's pretty sure they're both beyond prolonging this, than they have to.
He stops when he feels the cold bar of the metal against his bare toes, curling them away instinctively, before he juts his free hand out and slightly down, carefully. The last thing he wants to do is smack her in the face on top of this- and braces his feet in preparation]
Here, let me help you.
[It was- mostly his fault, after all]