Owner	Pose
Damian Wayne	Damian had asked Tommy down for a sparring match. Part of the process to create training regimen. The gym had been covered with a wrestling mat, more forgiving than the hardwood, but less squishy than gymnast mats.   Damian was dressed in his armored undersuit, Black with black plates in strategic places, covering his body. "Do you even -have- a contingency plan should you lose your magic?" He asks, stretching and limbering up.   "If you don't, you are doing yourself a disservice."
Vorpal	Rather direct and to the point, was our Damian. Vorpal wasn't wearing his usual outfit either, but his workout clothes: black tank-top, bike shorts, kneepads, shin-guards and arm-guards. "I figured I'd probably retire if that ever happened," The Cheshire cat answers in a deadpan fashion. "Of course if that were to happen then Raven might quit as well, since she has no-one to direct her gothic scorn at." He bends over and starts doing his stretches, peering at Damian to see his response.
Damian Wayne	Damian makes feigned strikes in the air. "I'm talking about in the field. There are plenty of people who are able to negate magic. If that happens in battle, just what do you have planned to get yourself out alive?" The things that non-powered people come up with. Though it's a very good point. Any good strategist plans on the unplannable.   "Failing to prepare, is preparing to fail." He stops a moment, hands to his side, eyes going wide. "Fuck me, I'm becoming Father."
Vorpal	"Well, I'll still have my flexibility, my reflexes, my claws. Those are things in my favor, no? I need to learn to fight formally, since I usually just move on instinct." He shrugs his shoulders and hooks his thumbs on the waistband of his shorts, "Truth be told, there's also a chance that negating my magic could also kill me on the spot, at which point what happens after would probably be in the hand of other people." He arches an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth. "I must assume not -everything- about your father is bad, Damian. I mean, someone liked him enough to have you with him."
Damian Wayne	"And that is what I am here for." Damian retorts, looking to Vorpal. "Have you ever heard of Tiger Style Kung Fu? It's form is elegant, deadly, agile, hard hitting, and best of all, you can use your claws."   Damian hops, standing crouched, palms forward, and fingertips pointed out. "Follow this form."   Damian jumps, striking with his hands, one after another, with great speed. A long sweeping kick that moves with him, followed up swiftly with another from the other leg. "You mistake me, Vorpal. My father is the best, the apex predator of Gotham City. Even if his methods are...softer than I'd like."
Vorpal	Vorpal observes, and then begins to copy Damian's movements. "Oh, that's cute-" he says as he adopts the palm posture, "Do we know if a cat-person developed this? Because... it *feels* right." He hasn't done much research in the history of martial arts, except that one time he fell down a virtual rabbit hole while doing research online and ended up on several pages dedicated to Mistress Ng Mui the founder of Wing Chun and one of the Five Elders. Vorpal's mimicking isn't terrible, but it's not precise. It is very evident that he's coasting on his natural speed and agility rather than precision. "Apex predator, sure," the cat says, repeating the movements again, trying to do better, "How does he rank as a father?"
Damian Wayne	Damian observes Vorpal's movements, adjusting the form in places. "Focus! Repeat the movements often, fix them to your muscle memory." Relax your body, be catlike, relaxed and focused. Strike and be rigid." Damian holds his hands to his lower back, before continuing. "It was made to mimic the tiger itself. But who knows, these methods are millennia old."   Damian moves to another form, holding his hands like snakes. "Snake form will also utilize your claws to their advantage. Snake style is graceful, deceptive." He moves his arms like a snake towards Vorpal, intending to distract him. "Once you find your target..." STRIKE! Fingertips are millimeters away from Vorpal's eyes. "You claw at your opponent, blinding them and allowing for you to have the advantage. Snake form focuses on eyes, joints, the groin. Much like the tiger is offensive, the snake is defensive, only striking to protect itself." The young Wayne mimics these movements, striking at the eyes, throat, and eventually, dropping down into a split, striking at the groin. "Fighting is as much formal as it is intending to win. Remember, foes out there will not think twice about killing you. You shouldn't have any second thought about fighting dirty." That's something Damian drives home. He may not kill any more, but he sure will not allow anyone to kill him.   The questions about his father only start down another hole. "He is...adequate." Though to be fair, he's only known his father even existed three years ago. And Bruce only has known him for months.
Vorpal	Vorpal leaps back as the snake-strike stops a breath away from his eyes. "Whoa..." the surprise is enough to break his cool and aloof air, but only for a little. He does his best to follow Damin's movements, though, but frowns. "You know it will take me some time to be able to be any good at this. I've never had any real training on this matter." He tries to focus on the movements. He can see how the sake strikes could be useful, and quite dirty fighting. He doesn't mind fighting dirty- better to turn someone into a castrato and give them a new career opportunity than to kill them. "Do you love your father?" The question is asked with a directness that is similar to Damian's, if not as blunt.
Damian Wayne	Damian smirks as Vorpal pounces back. "Thank you for pointing out the obvious. You're going to need to train in order to use it effectively. I'm starting everyone on the basics. But everyone likes a demonstration. To see a glimpse of what you can eventually do."   The question takes Damian by surprise. "It wasn't until...I came back from HIVE's group...he hugged me, shaking. Like he was very happy to see me still alive...that's what made me realize it was for real. When I realized what being loved and to love was, from your parents."
Vorpal	"Yes, but you didn't say how -you- feel about him." Damian may have the mastery of the physical jab, but at least Vorpal knows a thing or two about reading people. Or at least, he thinks so. "I've never heard you say 'I feel this' or 'I feel that', you know." The cat continues to mimick the snake strike, taking a liking to the movement and looking forward to what he might accomplish someday. "You play very close to the vest," the cat says, taking a quick break to stretch his legs. "I didn't 'get it', when you first came on board." He stretches his upper body, and smirks. "Now I think I do."
Damian Wayne	Damian looks around the room. Not knowing of which Tommy was talking about. "What exactly are you getting at?"   Damian knew exactly what Tommy was getting at. But the truth of the matter, is that Damian didn't want to say how he felt most of the time. It was either too graphic or in his eyes, weak.
Vorpal	"When you keep people at arm's length, it makes it harder for them to stab you in the stomach isn't it?" The cat sits down on his haunches and looks at Damien. "In assassin-speak, right?"
Damian Wayne	"Partly." Damian says, before looking at the Cat. "Do you really want to know?"   Damian's thoughts were instinctively dark, and violent. His mind raced at a thousand strikes a minute.
Vorpal	"Why do you think I would ask, if I didn't?" the cat answers quietly and crosses his arms. "Preferbly an answer without theatrial tears, I don't have hankies in my pockets." He looks down at the bike shorts. "I don't have pockets."
Damian Wayne	Damian pulls his bag over to him, setting it in front of him as he sits in the lotus position. "Have you ever seen me sleep?" He asks, unzipping the duffel.
Vorpal	"Do you realize what a strange question that is?" Tommy asks raising an eyebrow. "I'd only see you sleeping if I were in your room while you were sleeping. What kind of creep sneaks into someone else's room?" He waves a hand, "But you were saying?"
Damian Wayne	Damian gives a bit of a frown. "Because all the time, I'm reminded of what I've done. You know Goliath? He is the last of his kind. I killed the rest of them. You ever hear of the island of Corto Maltese? The brutal civil war over there? Started on my eighth birthday, because I assassinated the King. A whole tribe of people, wiped out because I destroyed the golem that protected their village from drug lords." Damian drags his bag over to where they sit, unzipping it and removing his gold and red tunic. "I see their faces, in my dreams, in my waking hours. Every drop of blood, enough to fill a lake." The boy drops the tunic to his side. "I can't sleep for more than a couple hours because of it."   He moves the uniform, showing the metal 'R' badge. "The mantle of Robin was made...as a sounding board for Batman. Someone to keep him in check, to keep him grounded on his mission. Every Robin before me had done so. Except me. In many ways, being Robin is much more 'normal' than me being Heir to the league of Assassins. Batman showed me once, what it meant to be on the other side." Damian's green eyes look to the Cat-man's. "When I meet someone, my first instinct is to assess in which way would be the best way to kill them. The very first thing. Not what do they seem like, or if I think they are an ass. It's how many different ways can I dispatch them."
Vorpal	Vorpal is silent for several moments before he stands up and pads over to Damian, kneeling down in front of Damian, his green eyes returning the look with a perfectly ambiguous expression. Even his face doesn't betray much. For a moment it seems as if he is not going to say or do anything but look at him in silence, like a sphynx from across the sands of time.
Damian Wayne	Damian looks at Vorpal a moment, allowing for two awkward moments before he says anything. "You fucking wanted me to tell you! It's not my fault it's worse than you thought."
Vorpal	The redhead sighs and reaches over to pull Damian into a hug. It's not a premeditated move, and he has no idea how Damian will react. This could go horribly, horribly wrong since hugs do not seem to be the province of the murder bird.
Damian Wayne	Damian goes rigid for a moment before he starts to squirm. "Unhand...ugg." He doesn't do much after he stops his knee jerk reaction, and is pulled quite easily. He kinda looks at Tommy like he's crazy, in fact.
Vorpal	Tommy gives him a hug, exhaling quietly for a few seconds before finding his own voice. "I've thought you were an asshole. A jerk. A little tyrant with a Napoleon complex." He takes a breath "I still think you're a little jerk. But you're coming from a whole different place." He pulls back a little and looks at Damian. "You are different now."
Damian Wayne	"I swear to god, if you tell anyone. I will tell everyone what is in those boxes in your room." Damian looks serious, his eyes piercing.
Vorpal	The Cheshire cat smirks and loos at Damian, green eyes staring critically. "Before I joined the Titans," he begins, "I was part of an online publication centered around heroes. When it got bought by Olivia Lune, it made a drastic change to the tablet slash rumor filth slinging. I was one of their best scoopers. My column was called On The Hunt." "I didn't like what I was doing but it was a paycheck and I needed the mooney. My parents already were spending more than what they could sending me to school. All of those rumors about your father? A good amount of those came from stuff I wrote. And Lune could get away with it because what superhero could sue for defamation without revealing their identity?" It's also why the rag stood far away from heroes who had a public identity. "I was even writing up to a month of being a member of this team," He says, looking not terribly proud about it. "Gar found out and offered I come work for him instead, and that's when I was finally able to quit. He is the only one who knew." His voice tightens, "Not that it terribly matters now that he broke up with me and I need to find somewhere else to work or lose my place." He stands up. Gar hadn't asked him to quit. But he hate to admit that it was childish... he just couldn't work for Gar. Not right now, maybe. And not for some time, perhaps. "That's better material than those boxes, I think," he says, looking at Damian.
Damian Wayne	Damian looks a bit taken aback. "If anything, he relishes the rumors. Adds to the mystery. And deceives from who he really is."   Damian hops up, before he begins practicing again. "I'm sorry, about Gar. That's what people say in times like this, right?" He looks to Vorpal quickly before getting in stance. "Come on, more practice before we grab some food or something."