[ His lips curl in an understated smirk, turning and leading the way back down to the back doors like the little lord of his castle, tromping down the stairs in his own heavy boots. ]
It's fine -- Richard. [ Something about the Talon's response, the hesitance and the surprise on his face when Damian pushes the sticks into his hands, settles something in him. A quiet click, a shift, similar to when 'Wilkes' became 'Colin.' ] If Batman doesn't like it, he can talk to me about it.
[ His assassin, his responsibility. He made a promise, if only to himself: keep the Talon out of the Court's hands, and save the boy.
Saving, he knows from personal experience, starts with treating him like a person rather than a threat, no matter what the first impression was. Nobody really did that for him--
(Still the demon child, still the assassin brat, still the merciless killer who made all those mistakes and every last one of them is held against him. He's trying, he's changed--)
--but he can do it for this boy. Offer forgiveness, and kindness, without any strings attached. Not like his mother or his father, but like Robin would. Give him a clean slate.
Pushing open the door to the sunny, winter day, he has one foot out the door when Titus comes bounding down the hall, the hound darting past the two boys to spring into the snow, barking his fool head off and jumping around. Given Damian's stern chastisement and reassurance, Titus had quickly become used to the new member of the household, and noting the them about to head out, decided he was joining them for a walk.
Which, really, translates to knocking Damian out of the way with his bulk and then racing around the grounds like an idiot. ]
Titus. [ Ugh, overgrown mutt. He collects himself, huffing out a breath that can be seen in the chilly air, and dusts the snowflakes kicked up by the dog off his coat. ] I suppose we can bring him with us. He has a good ear.
[ All in the name of alertness, of course. And not just because Damian appears to take some small measure of enjoyment out of rolling a snowball in his hand and then throwing it for Titus to chase and catch -- only for the dog's mouth to hang open, confused as to where his ball went, when the snowball falls to pieces. ]
no subject
It's fine -- Richard. [ Something about the Talon's response, the hesitance and the surprise on his face when Damian pushes the sticks into his hands, settles something in him. A quiet click, a shift, similar to when 'Wilkes' became 'Colin.' ] If Batman doesn't like it, he can talk to me about it.
[ His assassin, his responsibility. He made a promise, if only to himself: keep the Talon out of the Court's hands, and save the boy.
Saving, he knows from personal experience, starts with treating him like a person rather than a threat, no matter what the first impression was. Nobody really did that for him--
(Still the demon child, still the assassin brat, still the merciless killer who made all those mistakes and every last one of them is held against him. He's trying, he's changed--)
--but he can do it for this boy. Offer forgiveness, and kindness, without any strings attached. Not like his mother or his father, but like Robin would. Give him a clean slate.
Pushing open the door to the sunny, winter day, he has one foot out the door when Titus comes bounding down the hall, the hound darting past the two boys to spring into the snow, barking his fool head off and jumping around. Given Damian's stern chastisement and reassurance, Titus had quickly become used to the new member of the household, and noting the them about to head out, decided he was joining them for a walk.
Which, really, translates to knocking Damian out of the way with his bulk and then racing around the grounds like an idiot. ]
Titus. [ Ugh, overgrown mutt. He collects himself, huffing out a breath that can be seen in the chilly air, and dusts the snowflakes kicked up by the dog off his coat. ] I suppose we can bring him with us. He has a good ear.
[ All in the name of alertness, of course. And not just because Damian appears to take some small measure of enjoyment out of rolling a snowball in his hand and then throwing it for Titus to chase and catch -- only for the dog's mouth to hang open, confused as to where his ball went, when the snowball falls to pieces. ]