All the Bat's Puppies

Novembre 4, 2014: They may be loyal, but even the puppies are bats.

Gotham — Diner



  • Waiter

Mood Music:

Dick Grayson's schedule is, perhaps, not as 'messed up' as it should be. While he's usually been able to sleep a little later after his evenings out, he's gone on less sleep before and functioned moderately well. This way, it also helps keep him from shining too brightly in the Academy classes — since he's been trained to fight and has been knowledgable of the law for years. He has, however, developed a greater appreciation for morning's coffee.

Knowing that it's often early enough to find open time in Tim's schedule, he's also sent a message inviting the younger one to join him for coffee before class. Not yet dressed in his Academy uniform, he's seated at one of the diner booths, hands cupped around a mug of fresh, hot coffee as he waits.

Tim Drake has, admittedly, seen better days, but he's also now, officially seen worse ones. It's been nearly a week since he was, quite royally, beat up. And he's moving better with each passing day. Which is why when he strides into the diner he actually manages to almost not limp, such that only a trained eye (or someone that knows Tim extremely well) would notice.

His sunglasses are given a tug when he walks into the room, exposing his now blue 'black' eye. His regularly porcelain cheeks are looking more their regular hue thanks to a combination of ice and time, and he manages a flicker of a smile for Dick as he unbuttons his black peacoat before sliding into the booth. "Hey," he greets evenly. The coat is set beside him and he actually tugs at the menu left on the table. "I should eat something — "

Dick Grayson slides a menu over to the other before asking, "What happened to you? Why are you limping? And please tell me you're not going out like that…" out at night, in particular. He glances away quickly at one of the servers who was about to come over…just another minute or two.

"Nice to see you too," Tim quips as he forces a lopsided grin that doesn't actually meet his eyes. "It was like a week ago," his eyes turn down to the menu and he scans the items in quick succession. "I'm feeling way better," he murmurs quietly as if that makes everything a-okay. "I think," he hrms quietly, "I think I'll get some pancakes. And a coffee." His blue eyes turn up from the menu and adds, "I haven't been. Much. Just when Oracle had me meet the government lady. And," the smile fails and he shakes his head. "Just the once. Not to do my job."

"And?" Dick prods before flicking at the menu to get the other's attention. "The girl? Or the other job that you want to leave school for? I've been thinking a bit on that, but I want to know what's going on with it. And the girl, of course." He tries to give a wry sort of smile as if that will help.

"Sp — the girl may have dumped me because Ha — " Tim's eyes clamp shut as he tries to think of a sufficient code. "Because she thinks I like clowns. A lot." His jaw tightens and absently his hand raises to his still-bruised cheek. "And. The job? well. Ms. Tate is great. Gave me some time off and sent some flowers." His nose wrinkles, "I'm organizing this science gala thing for her. I could get you on the guest list — "

Damn. He was hoping Tim would listen to him and Oracle…well, he's an adult. He can make his own mistakes now. Dick hides a sigh in his coffee as he lifts it to his lips, "May have? That doesn't sound very convincing. Maybe you should talk to her about it instead of assuming? You know what happens when you assume, right?" As for the science gala, he gives a shrug, "Sure, why not? Haven't been to a gala in a while. Wouldn't want my manners to get rusty." He nods the server over then to take their orders.

"Yeah. I have no idea," Tim says bluntly about his last interaction with Steph. "She quit the whole cape thing…" he stops talking when the waiter arrives and orders his coffee and pancakes. When the waiter leaves he manages, "I really waffled on the job, so before accepting I went to talk to Bruce about it." His lips twist to the side thoughtfully, choosing not to fill in the blanks on that one, "Evidently I'm irresponsible." The waiter returns with a coffee for Tim and is met with a very boyish grin of thanks.

Dick Grayson orders another coffee as well as some bacon and eggs. He listens to Tim for a bit an once the waiter leaves again, he offers, "Well, if she quit…maybe it won't be an issue now? What did Bruce say? And is it because he didn't want you to take the job that you took it?"

Tim takes a long sip of his coffee. "Uh. Well. I told Bruce about the girl. By accident." His cheeks hue a pale pink. "And then on purpose." His throat clears. "We were talking about Damian. Well. Alfred and Bruce were." His fingers tap lightly against his coffee cup. "I went to talk about the job and the conversation derailed." His coffee is brought to his lips. "I'm an adult. I made the decision like an adult. My dad would've wanted me to take it. It's a good opportunity. Trutina has scholarship programs and rewards for good grades… and I renegotiated the terms of my contract so we're both on three month probation instead of indefinite end."

Dick Grayson's hands stay wrapped around his mug as he listens. He finally speaks after a moment, "You're right. You're an adult and you can make these decisions. I happen to disagree with you, but it's your life, not mine. I'm not too sure what part Damian has in this, but…just be careful. For all of us, I just ask you to be careful."

"It's a job," Tim counters lowly. His own fingers tighten around his mug. "I'm more concerned about what happened to my face than the job." He manages a flicker of a smile. "The job is probably the best thing right now. Between school, the girl, the clowns and that fiasco, and then — " the smile drains from his eyes. "The job is the least concerning thing on my radar right now. Whatever."

"I know it's a job. It's just…fishy." Dick will leave it at that. "Your face will heal…and what doesn't, well…we know people who can make it. Don't worry," he grins then, "You'll still be pretty once all the bruising goes down." As for the clowns, well, his smile faces too, "Give me the info you have on the clowns. I'll work on that."

There's a long pause at the notion of looking pretty. "That's not the worry," Tim counters with a smirk. "But thanks. It's good to hear you appeal to my vanity." He stifles a strained chuckle "Well. I put one of them in Arkham after she hammed it up and got some incriminating footage of us." His eyebrows arch. "But they didn't do this to my face." His lips twist to the side and his voice lowers. "He was huge and everything I tried failed to really have an effect. Even my taser," he shakes his head. "And my face is a message to the rest of us. I'm convinced if he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead." Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Tim drops his chin to stare at his coffee. "But he had kids he was hurting. I couldn't leave."

Dick Grayson leans forward some, "Who? Who is 'he'?" He'll get on this as well. "Tasers…don't always work. I got lucky that apparently purple blobs of Jello aren't immune to tasers, but…yeah." Not the point. "Let me help you with this, Tim…"

Voice still low, Tim doesn't look up from his coffee, "I don't know. He asked if I was one of the Dark Knight's soldiers." His lips twist to the side. "That my face was a message for him." Tim frowns. "He wore a mask. Red lenses," that Tim can't get out of his head. "Just. Huge. Like a foot taller than me. I tried the bo staff. Smoke pellets. Gas pellets. He literally threw me against a wall."

"He didn't give a name…" most villains want to be known. "Where was he? Did you get a tracker on him? And soldiers? Odd." He takes in everything that's said, "And what did -he- say about it?" He's fairly sure he knows that answer, but maybe he'll be surprised.

The Definition of Insanity: Expecting to be surprised by anything Batman says.

"No name. Not even sure what he wanted with the kids. Seemed to think he was starting a war. Or something." Tim's eyes squint as he finally looks up from the coffee. "I don't even know half of what happened. My concussion was pretty bad. And…" his voice lowers. "I lost my comlink signal. Total deadzone, even to the real experts. Only I heard his message. But I can't be sure I remember it right."

The bit about Batman has Tim frowning, "Babs was going to come talk with me to talk to him about it." His lips edge downwards. "After our last heart to heart I was really looking forward to it." The heel of his hand presses to his forehead.

"It's ok, Tim. It's ok. We'll get him and we won't let him kill you." As if he can do all that much more. "Babs didn't come talk to you? That's not like her…" and now that has Dick concerned some. "Your last heart to heart with Babs? Or with him?" Does Batman do heart to hearts?

"With him. Babs and I are fine. She was coming with me to talk to him. Because. Yeah." Tim yawns lazily. Avoidance is one way to operate. "Like I said, our last -real- conversation was… something else." He swallows hard. "Babs and I already discussed all of this. She sent me help when I fell off the radar for awhile…"

No one keeps him in the loop anymore. But now isn't the time to get upset about it. The food arrives and Dick picks up a piece of bacon, "You know I'm here to help too. Any time…with anything." He's going to have to check in with Babs as well. "Don't let the uniform fool you."

There's a flicker of a smile followed by a nod. "You could come for our chat," there's earnest in his tone. Until he adds: "It'll be fun~ Like a good old family reunion," the last of which drips with sarcasm. With a shake of his head, Tim is back to his usually sincere self, "Honestly. It's that metahuman trafficking thing I mentioned weeks ago. This is the first hit I've seen since." His eyebrows draw together

"All right, I will. When is it?" The chat, that is. He'll even get out of class if he must…claim some sort of emergency. He's always been pretty good at fast-talking his way out of situations. He nods at the concern, "I've been looking into it as well but haven't found more than you had. I've been keeping an eye out…"

"I dunno yet. Gotta coordinate with Babs and Bruce," like the personal assistant that he is. Oh irony. Tim rubs his eyes and shrugs his shoulders, "But I'll coordinate with you too. Hopefully we'll find a time when we can all chat about it." He forces a smile and then finally reaches for the syrup for his pancakes. He pours a liberal (probably too much) on the fluffy cakes; ironic for a fellow who likes his coffee black. "Sorry. I've been kind of selfish. How's school 'n stuff?"

"Just let me know when and I'll be there," Dick offers, taking bites of the bacon before he digs into the eggs. "Don't try to plan around my schedule. I'll work with your's." At the mention of being selfish he looks back up, "Don't be ridiculous. You're not being selfish at all. I invited you here to make sure you were ok…" which he kind of isn't, it seems. "But if it will help soothe you, I'm fine. School is fine…the end is in sight. 'Stuff'…is fine, I guess."

"I'm fine too," Tim manages easily enough although it's not as convincing as he'd like it to be. "Okay. Well I'll coordinate with Bruce and Babs and we can go from there. I don't really need to be in class either so…" he sucks on the inside of his cheek. There's a chuckle and a shake of Tim's heads, "Why is everything fine?" He sighs. "How much longer till you're done?"

"You do need to be in class," Dick points out with his fork, "But you're in college now and there's no one to make you go except you. But it's still important." He takes another few bites of his food before he answers, "It's fine because we apparently don't want to complain to each other. I know you're not exactly fine. But I can answer that I should be done by the end of January. It's a six month thing."

There's a flicker of a smile at the comment about class as Tim forks into his pancakes. "It's not that important," he seems determined to insist. "Sometimes I think I get more out of being in Professor Callahan's class than in it. I swear that guy has no idea how to teach. If he did then maybe it'd be better. But he doesn't. So." Tim shrugs. "Better off reading the textbook on my own and muddling my way through his calculus labs." There's a pause. "Admittedly the TA is pretty good. And she's thorough. So that helps."

His cheeks flush at the comment about fine-ness and he can't help but shrug. "I was worse last week. And while I'm not exactly keen to run into the guy again, I'm looking for him. And into him." Tim's eyebrows draw together. "Also. One of the clowns destroyed my car." He frowns just a stitch. "But, silver lining? It made a great excuse why Tim Drake got hurt."

Dick Grayson hrmphs quietly, "If that's the only class you miss…" because there are always classes like that but surely not all can be like that. "I had an Anatomy class like that. The instructor didn't care one bit about the class and very obviously wanted to be elsewhere. At least you have a TA that cares." He works some more on his food, "I still wish you called me. I'm still here for you guys, you know that, right?" At the mention of the car, he winces, "Sure, it's an excuse, but…you need a new car?"

"The clown princess was angry because she thinks I have a thing for clowns," Tim yawns and then lazily shovels a forkful of pancake into his mouth. "For the record, clowns terrify me." His eyes drift back to his pancakes, "I didn't really want to talk about it. Babs only knew because I fell off the radar and she sent help. And I don't know anything new. No news about who this guy was. Seems kind of like a non-thing at this point. Vorpal got me out of there. Another guy fixed the comms and stuff." Tim doesn't really know what happened when the pair showed up besides getting to the hospital. He does recall the hospital. He shrugs again. "Damian saw me investigating int he auxiliary … place." Because talking about the batcave at breakfast probably isn't wise.

He frowns a stitch at the car, "Yeah. Insurance is taking care of a bunch of it now. So that's good. And I had a clean driving record, so it's not all that bad. They did question the burn marks though." He cringes. "It was kind of good I had a concussion."

"Clowns never used to bother me. Only certain ones do." But then again, he grew up in a Circus. He was sort of surrounded by them. "You do know that I'm always here for you, right? I mean, I can't…and I won't babysit you. You're not a kid anymore. But if you need me…" Dick takes another bite of bacon. "It's not good to have a concussion. And I don't like that the kid has free reign of the place. It's one of the reasons I haven't gone over there to visit."

"He doesn't anymore," comes Tim's response. "He lost access to the regular cave and only can get into the other one. And it's restricted. No easy ways to get into Daddy's," there's a hint of bitterness and sarcasm around the word, "toys." With a roll of his eyes he notes, "Bruce knew it was a problem. He and Alfred were talking about it — I just happened to overhear the tail end of the conversation and, well…" He forces a smile. "I said I thought he was plotting to steal my girlfriend and kill me in my sleep. That's how the whole girl thing came up. Bruce wasn't happy…" They never did get to talk about his job.

Dick Grayson rolls, "He can't deny you having a social life. He can try. He can keep you busy, but just because he doesn't want companionship doesn't mean everyone has to live like him. I dated when I was a teenager…" despite Bruce's wishes, no doubt. "But then again, they knew me." They knew both of his identities. "I wouldn't be surprised if he plotted that, to be honest. I haven't met the kid, but the stories I've heard…I'm glad he got restricted."

"Yeaaaah," Tim's eyes turn downwards to his pancakes. "I really do think he's plotting to kill me in my sleep. That didn't seem to be a concern for our illustrious patriarch~" Alfred's words, not Tim's. "He did, however, pick up on the whole thing about the girl. Not my concerns." He clears his throat. "Whatever. I wasn't aiming to date anyways. And maybe we broke up. Regardless she's hung up her cloak. So." That's decided. For now, anyways.

"Ok…so she's hung up her cloak. Now meet her as -you-. See if you can start dating that way. This is an opportunity here…you already know you like her one way. This way you'll find out if you like her another, right?" Then secrets can be divulged if necessary. Dick gestures with his fork then, "Doesn't mean much of anything if you ask me."

"Right," Tim agrees and then sighs. "It's complicated. I should just strive to have no complicated in my life." He emits a soft sigh and then forces a smile before shovelling more pancake into his mouth. "And she kind of… " his eyes close. "There was this thing — " he cringes just a little. "I'm fine now," because that's a state that Tim is eternally in. "The government agent I met with," aka SHIELD, "checked my blood and I'm good. But I got exposed to the Joker's hallucinogen gas and had like… a delayed adverse reaction. So she's seen my face. And got me to Babs." Tim clamps his eyes shut. "And she thinks I'm in a relationship with Babs — " he groans. "Point? I think it may just be dead."

Dick Grayson rolls his eyes, "Ok, so she knows who you are…sort of. We can fix the thing with Babs, you know." He spears some of the bacon and eggs on his fork and seems very interested in it even as he says, "We can do a double date. You with the mysterious, unnamed girl, and me with Babs."

"Except she knows who I am and basically clocked me the other day for getting photographed with the clown princess," Tim virtually groans. There's a smirk at the last, "I don't think Babs likes her much either. They weren't exactly… friendly to each other when I came to. It was pretty uncomfortable." Blue eyes train on the pancakes again.

"Sounds like a fun time. I say we go for it. Then you can say that you gave it a good chance and you'll know for sure." See? Dick solves the day! Or something. "Look, you can't be moping about everything. That's just too damned depressing…even for the likes of us. Don't go turning into -him-, ok?"

"Yeah… I'll see what I can do. If she'll talk to me." Tim actually chuckles at the comment. "I take exception to that," now it's Tim's turn to point with his fork. His grin turns lopsided. "I'm not moping! I'm oddly chipper for getting the crap kicked out of me." The notion of turning into -him- has the younger man frowning, "I'm not sure I could if I wanted to."

Dick Grayson's turn to smirk again, "You want me to call her for you? I can…although that might be weird and probably won't help your cause." At the insistence that he's not moping, well, that causes a headtilt. "You sure? Ok, then give me some good news."

"Don't call her," Tim says a little too quickly. "I mean. I'll do it. But after she's cooled off for a week. And if I get slapped again, when I don't deserve it," although the pictures were rather incriminating, "I'll blame you. Personally." He hmmms at the request for good news. "Uh." He inhales a long deep breath and his blue eyes turn up towards the ceiling in an effort to remember good things that have happened recently. "Ha! I got clown princess in Arkham Asylum." Pause. "In an ice cream truck," because she blew up his car. "But the ice cream was delicious."r

"Why are you blaming me if you get slapped for calling her and offering to make it up to her at a nice restaurant? You won't even have to pay, all right?" There -are- perks to being Wayne's ward. "Well, I guess that's a good thing, but didn't that partially get you into this mess in the first place?"

"…" Tim openly stares at Dick. "I. I can't even. You ask for a bright cloud and that is my bright cloud. I just happen to be dating a woman who jumps to conclusions, and, apparently, is the jealous type." His teeth toy at his bottom lip. "Ha. It's not about the seemingly free dinner," because nothing is free these days, "it's the whole I don't know if she already broke up with me thing… although I feel like I should know."

Dick Grayson snorts, "That's called 'dating a woman', Tim. Get used to it. Get used to never knowing where you stand with them. But call, invite her to a fancy dinner, bring flowers…do the whole thing. Then you'll find out. Or you'll find out if she says no…then the three of us can just have a nice dinner."

Tim still openly stares at Dick. "Look. If you want to ask Babs out, ask her out. The three person dinner isn't exactly going to help her know it's a date or whatever." He shoots Dick a boyish grin, "Assuming you want to be on a real date. Instead of a random dinner with your kid brother." He shrugs.

"That," Dick steals a bite of pancake, "Is for me to know and is none of your business. But maybe it'll be less threatening if it's a double-date…and she'll see that you're not dating Babs."

A fork reaches out to protectively jab at Dick's fork. "Get your own pancakes!" But Tim actually doesn't care. "And how is none of my business? This whole thing goes two ways you know. I'm not a kid anymore. I'm old now. Greying and crinkly." There's a pause. "I don't think she thinks I was dating Babs as much as…" he shakes his head and cringes. "Babs agrees that the thought is cringe-worthy."

"Why? I want some of your's!" Dick is willing to fence a moment to get a bite before he 'retreats' to his own plate. "Because it's my personal affairs and it's for me and Babs to deal with. I appreciate your concern and your interest but, yeah. I'm not the focus here." Of course, he does choke on some coffee, "She thinks you were just having sex with her?"

"Because it's mine!" Tim counters with a smirk. Protectively he draws his plate closer to him. When Dick chokes on his coffee, the young man can't help but chuckle. "Right? That's the appropriate reaction to the idea that Babs and I…" he cringes again. "She's like a big sister to me. And I'm — " he shakes his head and begins to hue pink. "Anyways. So."

Dick Grayson wipes his mouth off with a napkin, "So we'll set her straight. What's the worst that can happen? She says no? Then you know you've broken up. She says yes? Then you have another chance. You're already nursing those hurt feelings, right? So it's not like it'll dig the knife deeper…"

"It's ridiculous," Tim notes earnestly. "Completely ridiculous." He heaves a sigh and then shovels more pancake into his mouth. "Right. So don't count on it happening, but as her for a double date anyways. She was nervous enough to meet you both when you were not yourselves," Nightwing and Oracle. "I have no idea why." Maybe he talks about them too much. He'll have to remember that.

"And I'm not nursing hurt feelings."

"Not ourselves? How would she know who we are if we're in our civvies," Dick asks, a little warily now. "How would she know we're anyone but who we are…" not that he knows about what they've talked about. "Sure, you're not nursing any hurt feelings. Right. Just call her already. Well, not this minute…it's early."

"No. Like. She doesn't want to meet people who matter to me. Family. Or something," Tim's eyes squint. Now that he's saying it aloud, it seems ridiculous. "I don't know. It didn't go well when she met Batman. She wouldn't know — " talking in code is basically making the younger of the pair go cross-eyed. "Anyways. No. No hurt feelings. I just don't want to make things uncomfortable. I'm not good with that kind of social situation…'

Dick Grayson sighs, "Now you're just making excuses and whining. Was I this whiny at eighteen?" Probably, but he won't admit it. "If you don't call her, I will. Unless you just don't want to see her and you want to end it for good without having any closure or trying to get her back?"

Tim finally groans. "Ugh. I'll do it. But you… " his cheeks flush brighter. "Don't you dare call her on my behalf. I'll do it. It'll be fine. She won't be out with Dmian or something." His eyes clamp shut. "I guess I can take comfort in the fact that she never confused us despite the whole same identity thing, right?"

"I haven't met the kid…do you really look that much alike? Do you wear the same costume or anything? Because…actually, that could be useful on occasion, but stupid otherwise." Dick considers that for a moment before he finishes off his eggs. "I think that's a good sign though that she hasn't confused you two."

"He wears the last guy's from the memorial," Tim's eyebrows draw together. The entire thought of wearing Jason's costume is just morbid to him. "We don't look that much alike. But he calls himself my name." He frowns. "On the plus side Bruce said I'm -me- and Damian isn't. So. That sort of helped. It'd be better if he didn't, with his next breath, threaten to replace me with Damian." His jaw tightens. "I told him Damian could have it if that's how he feels…" Tim frowns. "Yeah, it hasn't been an awesome few weeks."

There's another wince as apparently Dick finds that morbid as well. "Maybe you need a different name then? Sounds like he's just trying to get to you…and for some reason -He's- falling for it." Or not. It's hard to say what goes on in Batman's head, actually. "You really need a good night out. Or a drink."

"Oh. He's gotten to me," there's no question there. Tim is well aware that Damian has gotten under his skin. "And I'm not sure Bruce is falling for it or if he was just that mad about the girl. I suspect the latter. But I have been thinking about a new name. And new clothes. And something. Any ideas? Babs suggested I talk to you about it."

There's a smirk, "I also have some turning twenty one to do," to get that drink. Not that Tim hasn't drank because there was that whole business with Keith and the Bailey's, but then that also didn't turn out awesomely. "Nights are kind of wrapped up these days, I'm afraid. Maybe I just need to out of Gotham for a bit."

"Want to crash at my place for a bit? It's not out of Gotham, but it's away from the mansion. It's a start…I mean, I don't have Alfred…" but it's a change. Dick finishes up his plate and sets it aside. "Well, maybe not a drink, but I wouldn't blame you."

There's a boyish grin at the offer, "Really?" Tim's eyes narrow into slits though as he thinks it through, "But will you actually tell me things or make everything your personal business. Because if it's the latter, I'll get an apartment or try to get into res or something." Because residence would be so useful for his night life.

Dick Grayson waves over another coffee refill before he answers Tim. "Tell you things like what? And make what my personal business? You mean you and the girl? Hey, after this one attempt, I won't pry anymore, but remember that you're the one who came to me about it first." Just to point that out.

"Not at all what I meant. When I ask you questions, you plead the fifth," Tim counters easily enough. "I'm not saying everything, but something. I dunno. I don't think all of these secrets are doing me good these days. And no matter what Bruce says, I've been nothing BUT responsible. And loyal." He pauses. "Am I a puppy? I sound an awful lot like a good family dog…"

"I don't always plead the fifth. What sort of things do you want to know? I mean, there are some things I can't tell you, but…" well, they probably can't talk openly here. "Sure, I'll do my best to tell you what I can. I'm not really keeping any secrets right now…you know most of them." He snickers and adds some cream and sugar to his coffee, "We're trained to be loyal. We're all puppies."

"Like the double date thing. Secrets," and that's what the bats live on. Secrets. Tim yawns and slides the plate away from him. "And alright. If the offer stands, that'd be good. A place to … get some space. And perspective, hopefully." There's a tick of his eyebrows, "So here we thought we were birds, but we're puppies. It is what it is, I guess."

"We're neither birds nor puppies," Dick grins. They're bats. "The double date thing was off the cuff. I haven't even mentioned this to Babs yet. She might not go for it, but I think I can talk her into it." Even if it's not a real date. "You know where I live. I can give you the keys to the front if you want…" and the security codes.

"Yeah. I know where you live," which sounds kind of creepy, but isn't intended to be. "And that sounds good. I'll take the keys and code would be good. I'll head there after campus today. I'm not skipping class."

Dick Grayson isn't at all surprised that he knows where he lives. Not in the least. "All right…" he digs into a pocket and hands over the keys…making sure to keep the keys to his bike. "Code is 91584." Today. It'll probably be changed once Tim's stay has ended…if not before. "Good for you. You should definitely go to class and I should go to class. So I'm not going to keep you any longer."

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