[ Dick just took a step away from Damian's good graces, judging by the affront on the boy's face, how his nose scrunches and his lips pull down into a pug-like look of intense annoyance. Can't tell him? ]

Why not?

[ It's half-demand, half-plea, though the boy's trying hard not to allow the hiccup into his voice. Easier to be annoyed than to feel hurt that Nightwing is leaving again, and leaving soon. When he's gone, Damian will be alone -- again. Suffering Kent's tutelage, and his father's refusal to let him patrol solo, and the nightmares that dog his sleep and leave hollows under his eyes. The memory of drowning with copper filling his lungs. ]

I can help, Grayson! Whatever it is.

[ Whatever is keeping his brother away, keeping him from coming home. ]

Bullets can't even stop me anymore. I can help you. Whatever Father's ridiculous play is, this time.

[ They're the best, after all. ]