Jason knows that he's maybe a little cracked these days. He's got enough people pointing it out to him, for fuck's sake, and it's not like he lacks for self-awareness either. He's not the boy he was. The boy he was got beaten about the head with a crowbar; the boy he was *died*. He doesn't know how that boy would feel, looking at what he grew up into, but the thing about Jason is-- the thing is, he doesn't *care*. The only thing he owes the dead is vengeance.
So he's not what you'd call the ideal audience for Dick's self-righteous little speeches. Mostly he just wants to shut him *up*. And the best way to do that is do dart in low, feint a blow and steal a kiss instead, bite Dick's lip and bare his teeth, because when Dick kisses back, that means Jason *wins*.
"Urk," said Barbara. There was a basin on the floor by the head of the bed; for the moment, it was empty. She still wasn't sure if it had been the Chinese food or the leftover chicken; whatever it was, her whole digestive tract was in open revolt. She'd toughed it out for a while, sitting hunched in front of the monitors between hasty trips to the bathroom, but sometime's a girl's gotta say 'the hell with it' and curl up in bed. With a bucket, just in case.
That would have been bad enough, but Bruce had decided to be *helpful*. Real help would have been sending Alfred over with some salmonella-free soup; instead, she got the newest birdboy.
"Um," said Robin. "Do you want a cold compress? Or a hot one. Or something to drink?" He seemed appallingly young, to Barbara, and it didn't help that he was small and slight for his age, or that he seemed to think that ridiculous spiked hair made him look older. And he was full of questions: about the computers, about Barbara, about whether she knew the Blue Beetle. It was more than she thought a sick person reasonably ought to have to bear.
"Something to drink, if you don't mind," she said. At least that would get the kid out of her hair for a little while, so she could maybe die in peace.
"Okay," said Robin. "I can do that. Would you like soup? Alfred sent along some soup."
So Bruce wasn't entirely heartless, after all. "Soup would be nice," she admitted, and okay, maybe it was a little amusing to watch the kid spring into action with the same single-mindedness he used to fight crime, all dedicated to the task of heating up soup. She levered herself upright as Robin came over to her with a mug
"Here you go," Robin said, handing it to her. Barbara just breathed in the steam for a minute, before risking a first sip. It stayed down. She tried a little more.
"Thanks, kid," she said, and managed to make it sound gracious.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 02:15 am (UTC)"You don't do what I want you to,
But I haven't been through what you've been through,
And we could use that as an excuse."
- Sarah Harmer
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 02:25 am (UTC)So he's not what you'd call the ideal audience for Dick's self-righteous little speeches. Mostly he just wants to shut him *up*. And the best way to do that is do dart in low, feint a blow and steal a kiss instead, bite Dick's lip and bare his teeth, because when Dick kisses back, that means Jason *wins*.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-12 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-13 01:45 am (UTC)That would have been bad enough, but Bruce had decided to be *helpful*. Real help would have been sending Alfred over with some salmonella-free soup; instead, she got the newest birdboy.
"Um," said Robin. "Do you want a cold compress? Or a hot one. Or something to drink?" He seemed appallingly young, to Barbara, and it didn't help that he was small and slight for his age, or that he seemed to think that ridiculous spiked hair made him look older. And he was full of questions: about the computers, about Barbara, about whether she knew the Blue Beetle. It was more than she thought a sick person reasonably ought to have to bear.
"Something to drink, if you don't mind," she said. At least that would get the kid out of her hair for a little while, so she could maybe die in peace.
"Okay," said Robin. "I can do that. Would you like soup? Alfred sent along some soup."
So Bruce wasn't entirely heartless, after all. "Soup would be nice," she admitted, and okay, maybe it was a little amusing to watch the kid spring into action with the same single-mindedness he used to fight crime, all dedicated to the task of heating up soup. She levered herself upright as Robin came over to her with a mug
"Here you go," Robin said, handing it to her. Barbara just breathed in the steam for a minute, before risking a first sip. It stayed down. She tried a little more.
"Thanks, kid," she said, and managed to make it sound gracious.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 09:46 am (UTC)Thank you!