[He nodded simply to the condolences (no one had ever offered them before, but this seemed like the path of least resistance), but anything else he could say was cut off by the sound of the engine.
For the most part he made an effort to remain quiet after that. Perfectly still and hardly moving while Batman and Damian had their discussion (over what exactly he did not know, other than it being about him and the assassination attempt). When the Batman came to speak with him he was gruff and stoic, the usual from what Talon could tell, but he had expected more anger and hostility-- he had just broken into his home and tried to kill his son. Despite Damian's reassurances, he was still an agent for the opposition. But the man had almost seemed...lenient. Maybe even sympathetic or concerned, in the same rough and guarded way Damian had been.
'I was there the night your parents died.' After that Richard didn't have much more to say for himself. 'I'm sorry,' followed, and he seeme very grim and a little sad, and then 'We'll keep you here for now.' And then he'd left.
He didn't question the judgment. He remained there without protest, keeping to himself, shuffling around the small space now and then when no one was around, but otherwise remained wherever he sat. He answered questions promptly, in as few words as possible, and watched whoever occupied the area with a keen and cautious eye. After a few weeks he started to talk a little more (extraneous details, but he reveled in the chance to share them), but he mostly only offered the extra words when Damian was around. Perhaps because the boy was about his own age, or had been the first to ever listen to him in what felt like an eternity, but talking to him came a bit easier than to anyone else.
He hadn't heard anything about Haly's since his first night, but it seemed so far off he didn't really question it. He tried not to get excited at the possibility.
He still had trouble responding to his real name when someone addressed him. He was still waiting for them to hand him over to the authorities, or for an agent of the Court to come and drag him away, and he refused to sleep if there was anyone around. It was entirely possible they'd already tried to retrieve him-- he realized he had no idea of knowing if they'd tried to break in upstairs and simply hadn't made it this far, and no one had told him. He didn't feel in much of a position to be asking questions, and he wasn't taught to be inquisitive anyway.
For the most part his behavior seemed to be paying off; the butler seemed a bit less tense when he brought him food (and he'd been fairly unhappy about being assaulted when the Talon had first infiltrated the house, and he couldn't blame him), and most of the Wayne kids were satisfied with the conclusion that he wouldn't jump out and put a knife to their throat if they came within a few feet of the cell (the fact that they had confiscated all of his weaponry was besides the point.)
He was even content with staying in the cell, but some part of him still felt a bit stirr crazy, even if he didn't dare to bring it up. For now, since he was mostly certain that he was alone-- there were too many blind spots from the cell's position for him to be completely certain, but he'd learned to get used to it-- and had settled himself in front of the force-field, idly prodding at the barrier with one hand while the other huggee his knees to his chest.
He didn't have much of an idea for entertainment anymore, but he couldn't help feeling a little bored.]
no subject
For the most part he made an effort to remain quiet after that. Perfectly still and hardly moving while Batman and Damian had their discussion (over what exactly he did not know, other than it being about him and the assassination attempt). When the Batman came to speak with him he was gruff and stoic, the usual from what Talon could tell, but he had expected more anger and hostility-- he had just broken into his home and tried to kill his son. Despite Damian's reassurances, he was still an agent for the opposition. But the man had almost seemed...lenient. Maybe even sympathetic or concerned, in the same rough and guarded way Damian had been.
'I was there the night your parents died.' After that Richard didn't have much more to say for himself. 'I'm sorry,' followed, and he seeme very grim and a little sad, and then 'We'll keep you here for now.' And then he'd left.
He didn't question the judgment. He remained there without protest, keeping to himself, shuffling around the small space now and then when no one was around, but otherwise remained wherever he sat. He answered questions promptly, in as few words as possible, and watched whoever occupied the area with a keen and cautious eye. After a few weeks he started to talk a little more (extraneous details, but he reveled in the chance to share them), but he mostly only offered the extra words when Damian was around. Perhaps because the boy was about his own age, or had been the first to ever listen to him in what felt like an eternity, but talking to him came a bit easier than to anyone else.
He hadn't heard anything about Haly's since his first night, but it seemed so far off he didn't really question it. He tried not to get excited at the possibility.
He still had trouble responding to his real name when someone addressed him. He was still waiting for them to hand him over to the authorities, or for an agent of the Court to come and drag him away, and he refused to sleep if there was anyone around. It was entirely possible they'd already tried to retrieve him-- he realized he had no idea of knowing if they'd tried to break in upstairs and simply hadn't made it this far, and no one had told him. He didn't feel in much of a position to be asking questions, and he wasn't taught to be inquisitive anyway.
For the most part his behavior seemed to be paying off; the butler seemed a bit less tense when he brought him food (and he'd been fairly unhappy about being assaulted when the Talon had first infiltrated the house, and he couldn't blame him), and most of the Wayne kids were satisfied with the conclusion that he wouldn't jump out and put a knife to their throat if they came within a few feet of the cell (the fact that they had confiscated all of his weaponry was besides the point.)
He was even content with staying in the cell, but some part of him still felt a bit stirr crazy, even if he didn't dare to bring it up. For now, since he was mostly certain that he was alone-- there were too many blind spots from the cell's position for him to be completely certain, but he'd learned to get used to it-- and had settled himself in front of the force-field, idly prodding at the barrier with one hand while the other huggee his knees to his chest.
He didn't have much of an idea for entertainment anymore, but he couldn't help feeling a little bored.]