[ Smug? Hell yes, he is. He'd taken one of his father's private jets and upgraded it as he pleased. Damian may sometimes be barred from driving the vehicles (especially if it's up to Drake), but he's proved his skill on both land and air, and normally has monitored access to them. Sometimes he'll drive the Batmobile to pick up one of the others, or he'll take the Batwing for a quick trip in an emergency.
(Todd's stupid 'but how can your little legs reach the pedals?' jokes aside.)
He chuckles at Richard's fidgeting, the excitement in how he shifts from foot to foot. ]
I'm glad. [ And he is, he realizes. Glad that Richard would like to stay with them (him), glad that whatever poor company Damian provides, it's helping him. Glad for the opportunity to take him under his metaphorical wing, help him catch back up with the rest of the world and teach him what he can. Even mundane things that have nothing to do with fighting.
Not something he'd expect to be glad about, but he's -- alright with it. Most of the time Damian feels like he has to bury his enjoyment, has to keep his attachments out of sight, as if being happy and liking something is a weakness, a vulnerability (and it is, it was, in the League).
But this? It's -- okay. To admit. ]
Ready to head back inside? We can pick out your room, and after dinner we can get it set up for bed.
[ And, frankly, Damian hates the snow and the cold, and it's getting darker with the oncoming evening. He looks forward to spending the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace. Richard will be sent to the shower, too -- he's not going back to the cell. ]
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[ Smug? Hell yes, he is. He'd taken one of his father's private jets and upgraded it as he pleased. Damian may sometimes be barred from driving the vehicles (especially if it's up to Drake), but he's proved his skill on both land and air, and normally has monitored access to them. Sometimes he'll drive the Batmobile to pick up one of the others, or he'll take the Batwing for a quick trip in an emergency.
(Todd's stupid 'but how can your little legs reach the pedals?' jokes aside.)
He chuckles at Richard's fidgeting, the excitement in how he shifts from foot to foot. ]
I'm glad. [ And he is, he realizes. Glad that Richard would like to stay with them (him), glad that whatever poor company Damian provides, it's helping him. Glad for the opportunity to take him under his metaphorical wing, help him catch back up with the rest of the world and teach him what he can. Even mundane things that have nothing to do with fighting.
Not something he'd expect to be glad about, but he's -- alright with it. Most of the time Damian feels like he has to bury his enjoyment, has to keep his attachments out of sight, as if being happy and liking something is a weakness, a vulnerability (and it is, it was, in the League).
But this? It's -- okay. To admit. ]
Ready to head back inside? We can pick out your room, and after dinner we can get it set up for bed.
[ And, frankly, Damian hates the snow and the cold, and it's getting darker with the oncoming evening. He looks forward to spending the rest of the evening in front of the fireplace. Richard will be sent to the shower, too -- he's not going back to the cell. ]