Chapter Text
Tim waved at a set of stools along the kitchen island, so Dick picked one to perch on and waited while Tim grabbed two glasses to fill.
“Honestly, Dick, tell me…”
This is 1000% a test. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t say anything.
“Did you really think Damian needed Robin? Or did it just sound nicer to frame your decision as ‘a traumatized child needs guidance’?”
Tim knew it wasn’t framing…This was a test…
“Is it possible you thought Robin would ‘help’ him through respect for the cowl, and he would magically cause you fewer problems?”
Damian didn’t even respect Dick right away. Tim saw proof of that.
“Is it possible you made him Robin in the hopes he would get you injured enough that you could stop being Batman?”
Christ, Tim was not pulling his punches. Dick would never get benched on purpose just to avoid being Batman! It was too important, especially back then. Tim knew that better than anyone.
“Is it possible you were so bitter that I pushed you to be Batman that you decided I should ‘give up’ my name too, as payment?”
“No—!” It slipped out before Dick could stop himself…But how could his own brother even consider that?! Even for a taunt to test his resolve, that was pushing it—
Tim placed a glass in front of Dick before taking his own seat (only one stool away!). “You know, yesterday, I would have believed that. I dismissed everything I saw and tried to live in your world…But I don’t know how to believe you anymore.”
…Please, please, please, let that last bit be part of the test. Dick didn’t know what he’d do if it was real.
“Last chance. Do you actually want to hear me say things you won’t like?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Dick wanted to hear everything. Not just answers to all the questions he had been agonizing over the last few months, but also explanations for Tim’s mindset that Dick never realized he could ask for.
Taking a slow sip of water, Tim let the silence stretch on just short of unbearable. Then:
“I wasn’t there when Bruce started training Steph.”
And Dick almost asked what this had to do with Damian, but he bit his tongue to keep from interrupting. Tim would probably explain, anyway.
“I assumed if Bruce put her of all people in that cape, someone he didn’t even want to be a vigilante at all, let alone work with her, then he had to have trained her to meet his bare minimum standards as a partner. If I had been there, if I made sure Bruce was taking her seriously, then…”
Okay, Dick really didn’t understand where they were headed. He came here to make sure Tim understood Dick’s actions involving Damian, and now Tim was venting about Bruce and Steph?
“But I wasn’t there, I didn’t know shit about what he was doing. And then he fucking fired her, just sent her off with nothing, and she immediately got so injured that they could fake her death because he couldn’t even be bothered to give her a panic button for a parting gift!
“I thought he chose her as a taunt to me—to say ‘Look at what you gave up’ or ‘Look at how much better she learns from me’. I thought he chose her because I didn’t intend to become Robin again and she had already been a functional hero, despite their incompatibility. I trusted him to take care of her, if he let her wear those colors…but he never even wanted her. He had no intention of keeping her on. He used Robin like a cheap Halloween costume. He risked her life and lost it to send a stupid message.”
That wasn’t what happened…was it? No, even Bruce wouldn’t…Sure, her training went quick, but that was just because she had years of being Spoiler, not—
Yeah, no. No. Of course not.
…Right?
“He failed her…By taking her in, by letting her out, by sending her away, by losing her after, every single step was a failure I could have stopped if I hadn’t trusted that Bruce had the common sense to give a single fuck about his next Robin.”
Hold up, only Dick was allowed to feel a misplaced sense of responsibility for Bruce failing future Robins (as his Creator’s Right). Once Tim said all he had to say, Dick would have to address that shit.
…Wait, if Tim blames himself for letting Bruce fail Steph—
“…And then there’s you.”
Fuck, here we go.
“You were such a good brother and a good Batman to me.” Dick’s chest warmed at the praise, but he knew it was all downhill from here. “I may not have trusted Damian as far as I could throw him, but I trusted you. You’ve trained and mentored so many different heroes, and you knew how Bruce has fucked us all up, so you wouldn’t fall into the same patterns.”
…Okay, maybe not downhill immediately. Dick wouldn’t refuse a few pieces of complimentary armor before taking his verbal beatdown.
“As unprepared and unfit as Damian was—is—I decided to trust you with his training anyway, because you wanted to help him so much. I never once doubted you could turn him into a decent vigilante given enough time.” Tim put his hand on the table and leaned in. “But I should have. Because instead of following Bruce and demanding too much, you turned it around and demanded too little.”
Then he stood up, and Dick moved to follow, but Tim waved dismissively and the message was clear enough: It’s fine, just sit. So Dick sat.
Tim paced back and forth along the row of stools, occasionally throwing his hands around for emphasis. “Every time something happened, I would just remind myself to trust you…that you were doing good for Damian, that you said he was improving. I told myself over and over and over that you knew what you were doing because you have done it before—and now I find out you were lying this whole time.”
“I’m not lying—” Fuck, shut up, just listen—
“Then you were in denial,” Tim amended smoothly. “Even deeper than mine.”
Dick mentally patted himself on the back for not immediately replying, But you proved you weren’t actually in denial…Like, that was a pretty significant thing that happened. Maybe Tim was denying something else? Would he tell Dick what it was?
“But it doesn’t really matter…because even if I knew what you were thinking, you’d already made your decision. For an equal, I had surprisingly little input on things.”
[You’re my equal. My closest ally.]
“What…” Dick cleared his throat. Since he was interrupting to ask a question, he hoped it would be okay. “If—If I had asked, back then, like an equal should…what would you have…suggested for Damian?”
“Considering I didn’t know about Bruce yet, I think you and I both would’ve been just fine with discussing therapy,” Tim replied easily, slowing his pacing to a stop. “And Damian wouldn’t be allowed near unprotected civilians or even armed criminals until he’d proven he had good control of himself in both calm and stressful environments. That he wouldn’t cause more damage than a Robin should.”
Dick nodded subtly. “And…what if he just…didn’t want to listen?”
Tim narrowed his eyes and said, “If he ‘bleeds a need to be accepted’, as you claimed, then he would do whatever was asked of him to the best of his abilities. If he couldn’t stop telling everyone he was Batman’s Blood Son, if he couldn’t follow an order as simple as don’t attack your therapist, then he wasn’t ready to be any known vigilante, let alone Robin.”
“Do you…Do you really think we could have convinced him to stay without it?” Dick asked.
“Jesus Christ,” Tim muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter! It literally does not matter. If you weren’t going to—”
Dick swallowed. “Going to…?”
Tim took a deep fucking breath and turned away, reaching for his water—then he inhaled half of it before slamming the glass back down. “Y’know what…I fucking believed you when you said he ‘needed’ Robin,” he said quietly. “But I just thought you meant more than me. I thought I was the price you had to pay to keep shit under control; it wouldn’t be the first time, certainly won’t be the last.” What? “But I’m not even fucking paying for anything. No, instead, it’s the people who depend on us for protection that have to pay.
“Because just like Bruce, you used Robin as a cheap, meaningless Halloween costume,” Tim accused lowly. “You handed it over without a single passing thought for the responsibilities that come with wearing it…or the consequences of not fulfilling them.”
There weren’t…that many consequences. No Robins had a perfect start. A few mistakes didn’t mean Damian couldn’t handle the responsibility.
“When you said he ‘needed’ it, I thought that meant you wanted to use Robin as some sort of…cheat sheet for How to Care About People class. And to make sure he passed with flying colors, even if he didn’t understand a single thing. I thought you were gonna introduce him to the wonderful world of Fake it till you make it—but he doesn’t even fake it, and he sure as shit isn’t making it!
“If you were just going to let him beat the shit out of criminals, without bothering to teach him any other aspect of being Robin, then he didn’t need it at all…He didn’t gain a single fucking thing except access to a battlefield full of targets and Batman’s explicit endorsement.
“Real comforting for the citizens, I’m sure,” Tim remarked. “A fucking safety hazard of a Robin, and the Batman that keeps bringing him out.”
Dick did try to teach Damian more of how to be a Robin, but…the kid just wasn’t interested in certain things (and wasn’t ready for others). How was Dick supposed to force him to slow down and study, especially back when Damian only wanted to fight and win?
“Literally having no Robin at all would’ve been better than running around with a completely incapable one, just trying to delay the day he gets killed. What the fuck happened to you and Bruce that Robin’s competency just doesn’t fucking matter anymore? That you decided Robin didn’t have to be safe or capable, and if they die, well, they die?”
It took several seconds of silence for Dick to realize Tim expected a response.
“I—I watched over him. I wouldn’t have let him die—I didn’t let him die. And Batman…needs a Robin.” Tim was the one who insisted on that when he first entered this life. “And Damian…was there. He—” Dick knew he fucked up when Tim pressed his palms to his eyes and took a very deep breath.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just deliberately misinterpret that statement to exclude the reason Bruce needed a Robin, and how Damian was and is clearly the ‘Batman’ in this scenario.” Clasping his hands together, Tim continued, “I’m also going to pretend you didn’t just try to imply I was wasn’t there before you snared Damian in a role he was unprepared for and, apparently, unwilling to even attempt to fill. Because I was very much there, and then discarded, right in front of Damian, who proceeded to—”
“And I’m sorry!” Dick blurted. Fuck, he was trying so hard not to interrupt, to take in as much of Tim’s thoughts as possible.
But Tim prompted Dick to continue. “Sorry for what, exactly?”
“I didn’t mean to…discard you. I did want you there with me—I still do.” I will always want you with me. “I just…”
Tim allowed it. “You just…?”
“I—I needed to keep him close. If I left him alone—”
“Yeah, yeah, he would ‘kill someone again’, I remember.”
The complete apathy in Tim’s voice sent chills down Dick’s spine. “So…”
“If a violent criminal is getting away but there are hostages in danger, what do we do?” Tim asked flatly.
Dick blinked at the transition. “…What?”
“When it comes down to stopping the killer or saving innocent lives, what do we do?”
Oh.
“Damian isn’t just some killer.”
Tim leveled him with a stare. “Sure, but he represented the threat of future murders, based on his history of murders. And yet, between saving the people in front of you, or letting them die now so Damian didn’t kill people ‘later’, which one did you choose?”
“…I chose Damian.”
Tim nodded. “Right. And how many people died as a direct consequence of you bringing him out there as a fucking distraction?”
“No one—” But Dick cut himself off at the unimpressed stare Tim offered. “Not…a significant amount…”
“How did he compare to…I dunno, when Jason first started?”
“Things were different back then!” Dick said. “The Gotham from before him, and the Gotham from after…”
Tim conceded to that much. “Fine. Then how about Steph?”
“She—” didn’t have enough time. “It was calmer, in her tenure. Damian was surrounded by an all out war.”
“Fantastic conditions to introduce a completely disobedient Robin, of course,” Tim muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “Then pushing the Batman comparison, did more people die while you were distracted with chasing Damian, or while I was holding Bruce back by the collar?”
“…It was a war,” Dick repeated.
“And you had no choice but to go to war with a child that you not only didn’t trust back then but still can’t trust now?”
“I trust…Damian just needed—”
“Oh my fucking god!” Tim threw his arms out in exasperation. “What world are you living in that Damian needed anything more than he needed to survive? More than innocent people needed a trained hero to save them?
“Tell me honestly. Would you dress up every random child that was raised to believe it’s his birthright to hold people’s lives in his bloody, incapable hands? Or is Damian just that special?”
“I…” No, he supposed he wouldn’t do that for “every random child”. It was…for Bruce. Giving his secret son a link to Gotham, to Batman, in the only way Dick knew how. “It’s just Damian,” he confessed.
“And why is that?”
“Because of Bruce…Because it was his son…”
Tim narrowed his eyes. “First off, in case you fucking forgot, you’re his son too. If we really wanna get into it, Jason counts as a mass murderer of a son, and Cass was raised to be an assassin but chose not to kill—Damian literally isn’t fucking special.”
Tim had to know why it was different, right?
“Second, Bruce literally sent him back because he didn’t want Damian to suffer being a vigilante, so congratulations on shitting all over that,” Tim scoffed.
…Bruce did what because why?
“And third, even if Bruce wanted Damian to be a Robin, he would have been benched for serious training as soon as he proved himself to be a complete and total fucking liability.
“Batman and Robin’s teamwork is more important than either of their individual abilities. Even if Damian had the greatest combat techniques in the world uploaded directly into his homunculus brain, or a mind that works faster than an alien supercomputer, neither would mean a thing if he didn’t improve his Batman.
“And he doesn’t improve you. You’re just highly skilled at adapting. That’s what makes you such a good partner.”
…Tim’s tone didn’t necessarily sound all that flattering (it was more frustrated than anything), but Dick’s brain definitely responded to the sudden praise.
(Did Tim even notice when he dropped positive comments between the “things Dick wouldn’t like”? Because decorating the “You Failed” bludgeon with puffy “Great Job” stickers was kinda undermining this emotional beating…not that he wouldn’t be feeling the bruises for a long while.)
“Unfortunately, you weren’t a good partner to him—or a good mentor or brother or whatever the fuck else you convinced yourself of.
“You just survived. Damian survived. Nothing more. And you can do better than that.
“You are better than that.”
(…Ah. The “Great Job” stickers were faded remnants of an easier time. And now Tim was asking what happened, why Dick couldn’t keep up anymore. Now it hit properly.)
“There are a lot of ways to treat a lot of different traumas, with or without therapy, but betraying the people that trust us to prioritize them, their safety, their lives, is not a justifiable course of action. And I cannot believe the heroes that took me in after Jason would be so fucking careless with another Robin’s life…or the lives of everyone around them!
“Some vigilante identities are permitted higher levels of violence, or have very limited civilian interaction—but Robin is most certainly not one of them. And handing it to him while he was still a fucking burden to you and a danger to civilians should never have been an option.
“At least Bruce knew what he was doing to Steph and just didn’t think it would last long enough to do any damage. But do you know what you’re doing to Damian, with no time limit on his ‘adjustment period’?”
[You wrapped Robin’s cape around Damian like a fucking noose.]
“…You think I’m—hurting him.”
“Do you disagree?”
Of course. It wasn’t like Damian—well, there was the spine thing…but he didn’t usually get hurt that bad compared to other vigilantes. He was fine.
“Do you think having him as your Robin kept either of you safer?”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Dick tried.
“That’s not what I asked you. Do you think you were safer as partners? Or would you have been safer without him?”
Against his wishes, Dick recalled a few times Damian wasn’t quite where he was supposed to be…but it wasn’t all the time! Damian was worth the r—
…Their struggles didn’t negate the good they did together.
They were good.
Even if Tim couldn’t see it.
“Do you think you actually trust Damian to be even slightly safe? Do you trust him a fucking fraction as much as Bruce trusted you when he finally approved of you as his partner?”
…Once upon a time, Dick thought they trusted each other more than anyone else (Jason probably had that with Bruce too). He wondered if Tim ever experienced it, or if they missed that window. If Bruce ever trusted any of his Robins like his Robins were supposed to trust him. If Dick was meant to trust Damian that much.
“I trust him enough,” Dick said.
“And when exactly did that happen? Did you trust him before you made him Robin, as any reasonable partner would? Did you trust him immediately after making him Robin, as if a change of costume would change his entire person?
“Or did you knowingly, deliberately, repeatedly, stroll down the burning streets of Gotham, in the middle of a fucking war zone, with a Robin you did not yet trust?”
Dick didn’t have to answer.
“If you knew you couldn’t trust him as a partner, did you genuinely believe that Damian ‘getting better’ was worth more than people’s lives? Were you seriously okay with failing to save people as long as it helped Damian not kill again? Instead of teaching him that shit off the fucking field where no one had to die for him? Because that was a fucking option.”
They would have lost Damian without Robin—Dick was sure of that. There was nothing else he could do. But…
“The Mission to save people is important, but it doesn’t come without a price—and we are the price. Us, the ones who volunteered for this shit. You can’t parade Damian around as a fucking vigilante if you expect everyone else to pay for Robin’s salvation!
“You signed him up to endanger himself for innocent people, and then endangered those innocent people for him.
“Do you understand that?”
Dick was starting to. Just a bit. He felt himself nod in response.
“Then you better start making some changes. Or else I will, and you’ll have no say over what happens to him next.”
Wh—What did that mean?
“And if Bruce comes back and can’t get his act together enough to work with his Blood Son—”
Tim expected Bruce to keep Damian as his Robin? Wait, of course Bruce would keep Damian; he wouldn’t try to stuff Tim back into Robin again. And he needed a Robin. He needed a Robin and Tim had grown up too much.
“If Damian ever figures out that he’s being failed by everyone and runs off to a less fucked up family, guess where I’ll be. Guess.”
Probably not tracking down Damian. “In Gotham?”
“I will be back at Bruce’s side, because no one else wants to deal with him. I will be back there, making sure he stays functional for Gotham and doesn’t start beating the shit out of purse thieves or wrapping a new kid in the cape.
“And if this ever happens again, I will not stand down, no matter who’s wearing the cowl.
“I won’t be replaced until I personally approve the next one.”
Not that “this” would ever happen again, but Tim couldn’t just…go back to being Robin. Sure, he returned after Steph, but that was different. Jack forced Tim to quit—well, Dick kinda did too. But Tim was ready this time, he had grown up since—though Tim did have to be Bruce’s adult at the start…But he still needed independence that Robin couldn’t provide—then again, Tim was the most independent Robin…
There had to be more reasons than that, but for the life of him, Dick couldn’t remember what they were. He knew Tim was ready to make a new name for himself, and he wanted Tim to have more than Robin—to make his own Nightwing. But what exactly was he supposed to gain?
A bigger range? He’d already caused plenty of international incidents, and even gone to space without supervision (not that Tim knew Dick knew). Recognition among adult heroes? Well, being the Robin that saved Batman wasn’t exactly a local achievement. More allies? Tim basically built Bruce a support system in the wake of Jason’s death; he could make allies with anyone, even killers—
Even killers…Even ones who tried to kill Tim.
What made Damian so different?
“You’re the one that wanted me to be Robin, but I’m the reason Batman still exists.
“You were Batman because I knew you could take care of Gotham. You kept Damian because I believed you were the best option for him. And you got to give me orders because I trusted your judgment. But I don’t trust it anymore.
“I don’t trust you to be in charge of Damian’s training, and I don't trust you to prioritize the civilians with Damian beside you.
“You and Bruce have lost your New Robin privileges. Until you prove you’ve changed, I’ll train any future Robins my-fucking-self, since apparently you both used up all your Robin Training Points on me and can’t be trusted with preparing them anymore.”
Dick tried to insist, “You can’t just—” choose Batman’s Robin.
“Whatever it is, yes, I can,” Tim asserted. “And by the way, you have a real shit concept of equals…so it’s a good thing we’re not equals anymore.”
Leaning closer, Tim loomed in a way that wasn’t physically possible, eyes several inches lower but somehow as overbearing as a Brucing Bruce. And Dick could do nothing but stare.
“Because starting right now, you listen to me.”
“Tim…”
“Make no fucking mistake, I allow myself to be used by this family.” Used…? “If I wanted to disappear and leave you all scrambling to pick up the shattered pieces of your own lives, you couldn’t stop me. But every time I leave, you all lose your fucking common sense!
“And maybe that’s on me,” Tim muttered, pulling back into himself. “Maybe me keeping Bruce alive came at the price of everyone losing their competency, but that just means it’s my job to fix it. Again.
“You weren’t around often enough at the start to watch me drag Bruce around by his metaphorical leash. But now that I know what’s really been going on, you just earned your very own batcollar. Congratulations.”
This was—Tim didn’t view Robin like this, right? He always spoke about it like an honor, a great responsibility. Maybe Robin wasn’t all magic and rainbows for Tim, but…
“Tim, you make it sound like…like you’re a dog trainer or—”
“Because that’s what I am, Richard!” The stool screeched against the floor as Tim stood to face Dick properly. “I’m his trainer and handler and fucking self-control.”
The sheer fury in this outburst almost made Dick flinch—but he couldn’t tell if that rage was directed at him or Bruce (or maybe Tim himself). Dick never really…looked into exactly how Tim managed Bruce at the beginning of his career, but whatever assumption he had before today, it wasn’t this.
“I’m the caretaker that keeps his needs met, the partner that speaks his language, and the damsel in record-breaking levels of distress that keeps him focused. But you didn’t want that.
“You wanted to help a murderous little ‘sidekick’, and then you couldn’t handle it.”
Dick wanted Tim so much…back then and even now. He went about it wrong, so wrong, but he just thought—
“You threw me out of a role that was never just a sidekick, because you decided to make Robin a sidekick for Damian’s half-assed attempt at therapy. And then you failed to make him Robin.”
…If Damian hadn’t been there, would Dick still have thought Tim had to make a new identity? Did it really matter if he was Robin?
“You lied to me—sorry, deluded yourself—for months on end, and I kept fucking believing you. But after this, I don’t know how I could possibly continue doing that.”
[I don’t know how to believe you anymore.]
It wasn’t part of the test.
“Your word used to mean everything; now it means nothing. Only actions matter…and your actions have been pretty fucking useless lately.
“You failed Damian, you failed Gotham, and you failed Robin. And you can’t even see it.”
No, Dick was beginning to see it…
He could see the risks he took, the consequences he faced…but he still didn’t see another way to keep Damian from running away. “Could I have…helped all three? If Damian didn’t respond to therapy, could I—”
“If he’s as desperate for acceptance as you say he is, he would respond to anything, and you just chose not to try,” Tim bit out. “But sure, fine, I can entertain your little hypothetical. Are you assuming he’d throw a fucking tantrum if he didn’t get to use living people as his play things? Are you assuming he would reject all other forms of ‘help’?”
Well, Dick wouldn’t call it a “tantrum” necessarily…
“Are you asking me how you could convince him to stay put if you didn’t give him explicit permission to maim our citizens and criminals as he saw fit?”
It wasn’t maiming, but Dick could acknowledge that the injuries were a little more…more than average.
“If that was your only goal, if you didn’t give a shit about ‘helping’ him ‘adjust’, about making him a hero, then you didn’t need to sacrifice Batman and Robin and all of Gotham just to trap one fucking assassin.
“If the goal was to chain him down, rather than teach him how not to destroy everything within reach, all you had to fucking do was convince him in was in his best interests to stay. And there were plenty of reasons. Ranging from ‘If you want to honor your father, you have to learn how he did things, including how he trained his Robins’ to ‘Your beloved mother sent you to learn how your father operates, so unless you want to disgrace your precious Bat Blood, start fucking listening’.
Hold on, that was—
“And if somehow that wasn’t enough, I think he would have settled the fuck down if you resorted to ‘In case you fucking forgot, you’re nothing but a spare body for your grandfather, so if you leave now, you’ll die without even leaving a corpse; if you leave us now, there is no future for you’.”
Dick scrambled for some kind of response, to argue that Tim had gone too far, but—
“What? Too harsh? Too cruel? You would hurt him if you reminded him of what he already knows? You would hurt him more than you hurt everyone when you allow him to cause significant injury to his targets and allies and himself? Saying those awful words would hurt him more than you hurt the people who fucking died because you decided Damian needed Robin more than they needed to live?
“Is that really the argument you want to make right now? Are you fucking certain that’s in your best interests?”
Dick stayed quiet.
“So.” Tim turned to stare into his glass. If he was Kryptonian, Dick was pretty sure the water would’ve been boiling. “Could some ‘harsh words’ have kept him here?”
…Maybe.
“And could they have stopped him from killing or endangering the people in his general vicinity?”
…Possibly.
“Think about that for a while.”
Tim swiped his glass and stood up, finishing off his water as he walked it over to the sink.
“You can stay or let yourself out; I’m going to take a fucking nap. We’ll start making a game plan when I no longer want to scream myself hoarse over stupid blind trust.”
“I’m disappointed in you, but—” Dick winced, but Tim held up a hand. “No, listen. I’m disappointed, but I’m also not talking to you as a brother right now, remember? I’m talking to you as the Third Robin to a miserable Batman. And as you may recall, I’ve made it my business to retrain Batman when he gets his priorities fucked up and forgets how to protect the city.
“You’re a Batman, and you’ve fucked up. Which means with or without your approval, I am going to fix this. Now, either you can walk with me, or I can drag you. It’s your choice.”
Dick opened his mouth a few times before breathing out, “I’ll carry you.” He almost felt guilty for how Tim visibly recoiled at that statement. “I’ll carry you like I should have before, and I’ll go wherever you want, do whatever you say…”
When Dick reached out, slowly, cautiously, Tim didn’t immediately bat the offending hand away. He let himself be enveloped by familiar arms…and fully lifted off the floor.
“You don’t have to fix it alone this time—I’ll be much more cooperative than Bruce,” Dick promised into Tim’s hair.
Tim hesitated but eventually wilted into the embrace.
“…I’ll hold you to that.”
bonus:
“You can teach him the rules and give him acceptance; it’s not one or the other. You did it with me, you just have to remember how. So, we’re gonna have a long discussion about how you plan to change your approach to Damian’s training, and prioritize his many issues from most to least dangerous in the field, probably starting with his t—”
“Are you gonna help?”
“…What? Does this not count as helping?”
“No—I mean, yes—I mean, are you—can—will you work with him? At all?”
“Dick, he hates the very sight of me. I physically cannot train him.”
“He doesn’t hate you, I swear! He actually admires you, I’ve seen proof, he’s just really, really bad at showing it…”
“…I will give him one chance, on a day of your choice. If you can’t get him to follow my instructions without much insult, I will leave the new program to you and monitor from the sidelines. On the off chance you’re successful with that little assignment, then I’ll consider helping you train him, depending on how detrimental my presence is to his progress.”