[He wasn't really sure how to react to the compliment. The members of the Court were always impressed with his progress, how good he was getting so quickly, how much more effective and efficient he'd gotten but it always seemed like they were still expecting more. And they'd long stopped being things he really felt like being praised for. No one was every completely happy with his performance, so...
So why did this kid care so much?
He's completely at a loss on how to answer the question. He can feel Damian's gaze boring into him, scrutinizing even more, watching him. He moved his legs, switching which one was folded on top, and crossed his arms over his torso. His hand claws at his stomach, desperately trying to relieve the burning emotions in his gut and still obscure the gesture from view with his other arm, and he bows his head again so he doesn't have to watch Damian's stare.
What he wanted had never been part of the question. He'd protested the judgment when he was younger, but that way of thinking had been beaten out of him before he ever dawned the uniform. The Court of Owls decided; the Court of Owls would want him back. So he would have to go back. That's what they wanted, so that's how it was.
Did he want to go back?
(He wasn't sure he did. But he could never voice that thought.)]
I-- [He couldn't think. His tone turns accusatory, like a cornered animal trying to lash out:] Why do you care? What's it to you? So you're safe from me trying to kill you?
[Why bother going against the Court, to all that trouble? Talon wasn't anybody to Robin, except a kid with some skills and maybe a potential asset for a different group of murderers. And the price for his employment hardly seemed worth it.]
no subject
So why did this kid care so much?
He's completely at a loss on how to answer the question. He can feel Damian's gaze boring into him, scrutinizing even more, watching him. He moved his legs, switching which one was folded on top, and crossed his arms over his torso. His hand claws at his stomach, desperately trying to relieve the burning emotions in his gut and still obscure the gesture from view with his other arm, and he bows his head again so he doesn't have to watch Damian's stare.
What he wanted had never been part of the question. He'd protested the judgment when he was younger, but that way of thinking had been beaten out of him before he ever dawned the uniform. The Court of Owls decided; the Court of Owls would want him back. So he would have to go back. That's what they wanted, so that's how it was.
Did he want to go back?
(He wasn't sure he did. But he could never voice that thought.)]
I-- [He couldn't think. His tone turns accusatory, like a cornered animal trying to lash out:] Why do you care? What's it to you? So you're safe from me trying to kill you?
[Why bother going against the Court, to all that trouble? Talon wasn't anybody to Robin, except a kid with some skills and maybe a potential asset for a different group of murderers. And the price for his employment hardly seemed worth it.]