Hush. [ It's a gentler chastisement than the usual snap, paired with his free hand dropping down to coerce Dick into yielding his death-grip on Damian's coat in favor of cupping the battered hand in his own, thumb rubbing reassuring circles against the boy's palm. ] I'm alright, and Dent is down.
[ There's sharp steel in his voice; Dick hadn't been here for the Joker incident, but it's with the same tone that he announced that Jason's death had been avenged, right to the face of his father. Cold, merciless, and confident; and viciously protective. ]
He won't be getting up.
[ He can hear the Batmobile pull up nearby, engine revving. There's no easy way to do this next bit, but Damian is going to try and make it as comfortable on Dick as possible. He yanks his other glove off with his teeth, tucking it into his belt, and sets Dick's hands upon his chest (infinitely careful to not jostle the breaks). He can't give Dick any strong painkillers because he doesn't know if the boy will wake up--
(Unease, jagged in his own chest. His panic's held at bay by training and sheer determination, but there's a running train of thought in the background of his mental processes: Dick's coughing is wet, too, he has to have internal injuries, god, what if he bleeds out in the car, Damian will be able to do nothing--not again, not again--)
--but the topical anesthetic he applied to some of the worst areas should help ease the transition home. He leans forward to slip his arms beneath Dick's neck and knees, making sure everything is in place as his fingers curl around his brother's shoulder. ]
We're going home, Robin. I'm going to lift you now, alright?
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[ There's sharp steel in his voice; Dick hadn't been here for the Joker incident, but it's with the same tone that he announced that Jason's death had been avenged, right to the face of his father. Cold, merciless, and confident; and viciously protective. ]
He won't be getting up.
[ He can hear the Batmobile pull up nearby, engine revving. There's no easy way to do this next bit, but Damian is going to try and make it as comfortable on Dick as possible. He yanks his other glove off with his teeth, tucking it into his belt, and sets Dick's hands upon his chest (infinitely careful to not jostle the breaks). He can't give Dick any strong painkillers because he doesn't know if the boy will wake up--
(Unease, jagged in his own chest. His panic's held at bay by training and sheer determination, but there's a running train of thought in the background of his mental processes: Dick's coughing is wet, too, he has to have internal injuries, god, what if he bleeds out in the car, Damian will be able to do nothing--not again, not again--)
--but the topical anesthetic he applied to some of the worst areas should help ease the transition home. He leans forward to slip his arms beneath Dick's neck and knees, making sure everything is in place as his fingers curl around his brother's shoulder. ]
We're going home, Robin. I'm going to lift you now, alright?