Owner	Pose
Dick Grayson	He has been avoiding the manor for almost a couple of weeks now. Training, and reloading his gear have been the sole appearances of the eldest of the Robins. Tonight, though, Dick Grayson is in the manor, in his old room, collecting a few things. Nothing of any worth, and nothing too heavy, either. No doubt, these are things that mean something to him on a more personal level. Most of his paraphernalia left the Manor years ago. These are small things. A single cricket bat; from an effort made by Alfred to teach him the game, as well as a small canvas bag that looks like it has seen better days. The stitching on it is what makes it Precious. it was stitched by his mother.     The final thing is the item that has prolonged the stay. It is a photo album. Not the one from his circus days- long ago that migrated to Dick's apartment. This is the one from his time here. He is leaning against his bed, looking at it with the same bittersweet smile that most vaguely sentimental people get when they are confronted with the evidence of their pasts.
Damian Wayne	Not far from Damian's room, the youngest member of the Bat Family had heard someone about, not Alfred though. The steps were less rhythmic.   Damian walked casually up to the open door, nearly silent just from force of habit. He watches Dick look at the album with a level of curiosity. Unfortunately not many things in this world exist that Damian would have such a response to.
Dick Grayson	"How can I help you, little brother?" Dick Grayson asks Damian Wayne in a careful tone. It is a warm tone though, brotherly, and with the intonation that Dick learned from Alfred. That tone that quietly assures the other person that even though he is busy, the other person is the most important one in the room. He doesn't want to presume too much and upset Damian with over-familiarity; nor does he want to be brusque. Damian caught him in a good mood.     Dick shuts the photo album almost reverently and puts it in the bag with care for both it, the memories it holds, and the structural integrity of the precious evidence that Mary Grayson lived. His fingers linger on the little red-breasted songbird stitched into the old bag. They are starting to fray a little from the years. He adjusts the cricket bat with almost equal care. He does not toss the Linwood-seed oil in with the bag and photo album, though. It is is carefully set aside with a slight wrinkling of the nose.     People like to tease Dick about his places being pits, but his room is meticulously kept, and not just by Alfred. Grayson grew up in a traveling show. He didn't have a lot of things, and he had even less space, and nowhere near the money that he has now. Great-Grandson of a nigh-immortal assassin or not, he takes care of his things, and puts things in their place.     Everything settled, Dick rests his blue eyes on the youngest of his successors and shares a quiet, small smile with the younger.
Damian Wayne	Damian doesn't say much. Not that he has an aversion to the subject, he actually just doesn't have the words to accurately describe his feelings.   "Grayson." He says, averting his gaze from his older brother. "I...had actually wanted to see you soon." Damian had been wearing a black turtleneck, not unlike one that bruce would wear. It was more his style than trying to emulate his father. "I, saw my mother." Risen from the dead, as it would seem.
Dick Grayson	The Alfred Pennyworth impression continues. Not in mannerisms, or in his voice; but the apparent willingness to listen. Even his body language remains open, as he leans back on his old bed, his backside resting against the mattress, Dick's head tilted towards his left as he regards Damian. Periodically, his chin gives a little nod as his head cants ever-so-slightly to his left. His lips are closed and he is actually listening.     The pause before he speaks is measured. The ring finger of his left hand rubs against the tip of his thumb as he considers his words. As he starts, Dick absently pushes his hair away from his face. he takes a series of steps over towards Damian. This is dangerous, but he drops to one knee and throws his arms about Damian to give the boy a hug. A hard, brotherly, affectionate hug. "You can tell me anything." He promises. "I will not promise I will not tell your father, or Alfred, but I will keep as much as I can confidential. You are important to me." The tone is genuine and vulnerable. He clears his throat, and asks, more casually as he starts to break the embrace. "I can only imagine how conflicted you are. I would kill for five more minutes with my mom." He would. In that moment he absolutely would. "Introduce her to Barbara. Tell her I love her. You though? Your relationship is so much more complicated. What can I do to help you?" Â
Damian Wayne	It may have been the most dangerous thing to do, but there was a small shred of Damian that had felt like he wanted someone to give him a hug. He would never admit it, of course. The green-eyed boy raises his eyebrows in suprise, having to consiously stop his reflex to squirm, or knee his assailant in the solarplexus.   While he is still in the embrace of Master Grayson, Damian lowers his head a bit. "She told me, she told me that I would have to choose soon. Between them." As much as the year has been great for him, the concept of joining back with his mother never crossed his mind. "There's more."   "I am leading a project...like father's Justice League. We had been offered to be financially backed by someone...someone diametrically opposed to the League of Assassins. The rest of the group wants me to choose. Between Grandfather or this..." Damian looks almost disgusted at the concept. "This anti-League." It was obvious that Damian was not ready to destroy Ra's and the League, but he doesn't know if these people are any better.
Dick Grayson	This is above his paygrade. Far, far above his paygrade. Dick takes a step back, standing again. "Damian?" Dick admits this carefully. "If I have any ability at all to emote it is because I was not just raised through my formative years by your father. Alfred was there when I felt low. He never forgot my birthday. He never, ever belittled me for my doubts. Your relationship might not mirror mine, but any healthy emotional coping mechanisms I have, were cultivated by that man. If you are not confiding in him, you should."     He is uncomfortable saying much more. The old man is a lot sneakier than he always lets on, and would perhaps admonish Dick for giving Alfred that credit.     "That being said." Dick pulls in a long breath. "Your mother and grandfather love you. In their own way, I am certain that as best they can, and as deeply as they can, they love you just as much as my mother loved me." Dick's voice catches.It's his birthday tomorrow. If there is ever a day he misses them, it's then. "But, just because they love you doesn't mean it is healthy. It is okay to love them back. It is okay to feel conflicted. It is okay to be upset that there is this split in your family. You are not dumb though, and you know that here? Here you get to become who you want. There? You are just the heir to your grandfather. I... will never win if I run your family down, or talk badly about them, so I will not." Dick's blue eyes seek out Damian's green. "Just think about it that way, okay?"     Any questions he has about the nature of this other project are put aside, at least for the moment. Right now, the mental and emotional health of his brother are at the forefront of his mind.
Alfred Pennyworth	"You know I find all too often choosing the lesser of two evils is just as bad as choosing the greater." A familiar well worn voice chimes out. Alfred is standing and dusting a shelf, how he even got into the room unnoticed is anyone's guess but he's there as if he's been there the entire time. The vase is lifted into his gloved hand off the shelf, so that he can dust under it, before placing it right back down where it belongs.      He returns to a calm and collected self as he steps down from the small step ladder he'd used to get up that high dusting off his own gloves in the process before moving to the next shelf slightly lower down.
Damian Wayne	"Father will think automatically that I want to go back with them and will then find all of them and try to take them on his own. It's what I would do." Well, a modest amount of truth.   The ingress of the grandfather figure makes Damian take a step back. "How long have you been eavesdropping, Pennyworth?" He says, only slightly annoyed that he didn't hear the man walk in.
Dick Grayson	"He has been there almost the entire time that I have been here. He was making sure I was okay, as well as doing some very necessary dusting in the hallway
Dick Grayson	"He has been there almost the entire time that I have been here. He was making sure I was okay, as well as doing some very necessary dusting in the hallway." Dick adds, "No eaves were dropped." His smile is soft.     "if I can give you some advice regarding your father? give him the chance to mess it up. I don't doubt that he needs well, sometimes he makes mistakes. The best way to handle him is to Simply do the right thing. If you keep doing the right thing, he will notice." those words, or perhaps the kindest he has spoken about Bruce Wayne in the recent past.
Alfred Pennyworth	"You seem to be under the false understanding there is anything in this home I am not completely privy to young master Damian." Alfred admits in a deadpan tone turning from his work in dusting the shelf. It's a calming business, cleaning, works wonders to sooth the soul during troubled times and it's exactly what Pennyworth uses it for. "Well or there's that too." Spoken with a soft smile as he finishes dusting the lower shelf. A slight wink is given back to Damian with that smile as he works tirelessly. The house looks so spotless for a reason, and the reason is tireless effort on the part of Alfred.
Damian Wayne	Green eyes meet the blue, and unfortunately despite the angry look, Dick would most likely be able to see them welling up. He had hoped he didn't have to fess up to Batman himself. That there were some kind of solution to this that the boy could take care of himself. It was what was expected of him in the League, that's just how it was done. You deal with it yourself, and if you cannot, too bad. Damian brushes off the disbelief of the situation. He's already at odds with himself over all of this.   "So, I tell him. If he doesn't freak out and ground me, to which I'll go out anyway. Hopefully he would just be mad at her for not telling him I existed, and making me into the heir he didn't want to be." The young Wayne just sighs, looks like he is going to have to go up to Bruce himself. "If I agree to tell Father, you BOTH have to swear not to mention it to him until I do." Those green eyes looking more serious than ever.
Dick Grayson	It is the threat of the tears that make Dick pause. His left hand slides through his hair, pushing the longer strands away from his face. "Your father is already less than pleased with me. If it will make your life easier, I will talk to him for you?" Never has a a brother made a more certain demonstration of love and affection than this one. "But only, if you think that will make it easier on you." Dick stuffs a hand in his pocket. "I think you should. I think you should give him the chance to mess it up. I'm not saying that to run him down. I am saying that because how he treats you and how he treated me at your age are very different. He might just surprise you."     Dick Grayson is trying very hard not to project his baggage on the younger man. "Damian. He loves you. He is proud to be your father. He pushes you like he does, because you have a lot of potential. Almost as much as me." He does get a dig in, if only to ease the tension a little and stop those tears from falling. Damian Wayne crying would almost certainly make Dick Grayson do so too, especially today. "Okay, little brother? I have got your back." he pauses. "Umm, after you are done being grounded, and I have kicked Shiva's ass, want to, uhm, take a week off?" he asks it quietly. "Go someplace and be spoiled rich kids? Maybe skiing? We'll take Alfred, so your dad doesn't think we are being complete slugs?"
Alfred Pennyworth	There's a silence from Alfred as he finishes cleaning up the shelving units. A time for speaking, for consoling and a time for simple silence. This proves to be a time for the later of the two. Instead he simple walks over and himself puts a hand on Damian's other free shoulder, standing there in silence for a moment before finally adding. "We're all here for you Master Damian, of that much you can always rely on." He offers a sympathetic smile.      Yet when the mention of skiing comes up he gets a somewhat distant look in his eyes. He's not looking at anything more through the building off for miles as for just a moment he drifts into his own far forgotten past. His mind wanders to that last skiing trip with his parents when he was just a boy, and for a brief moment the memory threatens to swallow him whole to break him. Instead he merely closes his eyes, counts to ten and steadies himself choosing to fight back against the memories and be strong for his adoptive family.
Damian Wayne	"If it's agreed, then I will tell him. Tonight. I'll say the Redbird is broken." Damian offers, not that he will need to lie about the Redbird. he will actually break it to counter any bluff calling.   The concept of skiing is an interesting one. Damian has skied before, with more guns and explosions. "Sounds fun." He responds, though he doesn't want to mention guns and explosions right now.   "I'll throw in the Justice stuff too, I guess." He mentions off-hand.
Dick Grayson	"That feels fair, Damian." Dick says after a little consideration. He regards Damian, then leans over to pop the younger man in a gentle manner in the arm. "You have a complicated family. You can trust Alfred and myself to always tell you the truth, even if you do not want to hear it. Him, maybe a little nicer than me. I love you, little brother, and don't forget that." His body language shows the upset that's creeping in. He hates those words, but they needed to be said. He reaches over for the bag his mother stitched on for him. The cricket bat Alfred gave Dick is in the bag, along with the photo album. "I, uhh, got promises to keep." It is said reluctantly. "But, if I need to stay to help sort this out, well, I will."     Dick's room is getting quite bare. Just a few small things to show he was ever here. A little bit more vanishes every year close to his birthday.     "I am sorry I missed dinner, Alfred. I'm the disappointing son, and I don't want to quarrel at your table." The hurt is well compartmentalized there, but the respect shines through. He doesn't want to ruin any meal that the others are sitting down at. It is where he takes most after Damian's father-- being willing to put others first.
Alfred Pennyworth	"Well I do suppose then it's a good thing you won't have to lie about the Redbird needing repairs." Alfred starts. "I was actually coming up here to inform you of a little accident down in the batcave that required your attention young Master Wayne."      "And don't worry, next time I've every intention of simply drugging the family and bringing them to dinner that way." Spoken in a completely deadpan manner. "Maybe hire that lovely Deathstroke the Terminator to bring you home for supper." A light pat on Grayson's back that makes it very difficult to tell if he was joking or not.
Damian Wayne	Damian responds in the positive, tears subsided. A small moment to gather himself, no more words after that, he's already divulged his plan to the two of them. It's difficult playing a constant battle with your emotions, unbridled rage breaks down into desperation. "What happened to my motorcycle?" He says, his tone suddenly taking a turn to the more serious. He wasn't sure if the butler was indeed kidding or not.
Dick Grayson	"Good night, Alfred." Dick says. He adds. "Nothing tomorrow. Please?" He isn't fishing for something. Dick has a long visit with his parents scheduled for tomorrow. Followed by crying until he is even more miserable, then he needs to feel bad for crying, and if all goes well, knock the teeth out of someone who deserves it tomorrow. He squeezes the old man's arm for just a moment, about the only affection that can be shown.     "Damian. you call me if there is anything I need to know. I will drop what I am doing to help you out." He pauses, and looks over has shoulder. "I mean that." He adjusts the old, wearing bag, but opts to carry it in his arms rather than wear it. It is likely for the best. It's on its last legs. A brief bit of concern flits over his features, as if worried that as the years pass, he will forget.
Alfred Pennyworth	"Goodnight Master Grayson." Alfred says with a slight bow just enough to get across the level of respect he fells for the young man. There's a definite sense of genuine respect to it as he goes through the motions. Then he turns to Damian. "A minor hydraulic failure in the display platform I'm afraid Master Damian, unfortunately your Redbird took a small tumble as a result." He places his hands back down to his sides. "I'm afraid you'll have to fix the rear view mirrors, and the front wheel before you want to ride it again."
Damian Wayne	"Noted." He responds to Dick, only to continue after rethinking. "Thank you, Richard." Damian gives what could be construed as a smile. If only he could say the B word too.   The damage to the Redbird sounds nominal, so luckily he's not angry about it. If Goliath had become ill, he would be down there in a heartbeat trying to help the bat dragon. "I'll fix it after Patrol."
Dick Grayson	"Partially repair it now." Dick calls from down the hall. "It is more believable if it is in pieces when he prepares for patrol. Then he -has- to take you." Pro-tips on handling Bruce?     He continues on his way, and adds, "Don't lead with a joke!"