Well I can only hope to fall back into your good graces.

[His smile is rueful, because this next part is... hard. Complicated. Because Dick's a talker and he can't find the words to explain how much he missed him. How he felt so rotten inside when he thought about how his Robin was dead while he was still alive. How could still remember the sight of his beaten, bloody body when he closed his eyes at night. How he'd barely bat an eye at himself when he'd driven a spear through the heretic in the only successful simulation they'd had. How sometimes he wished Luthor really had finished him off, like that would somehow make up for the fact that Damian was gone.

And now, that things are finally looking up, how he can't stay even through the night, and he probably won't see him again for months, if he was generous. By tomorrow morning he had to go back to being a ghost.

He carefully pulled himself away from Damian's grip-- enough so that he can look him in the face, and he moves his hands to the boy's forearms.]

I can't tell you. [Some partner he was, right?] And I can't stay here. Not for long. You can't tell anyone you saw me.