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Well, this is... embarrassing, if I do say so myself.

[He laughs a little, just to prove how completely embarrassed he is. Look. Do you see his embarrassment? Because it's totally there.]

Here it is, almost literally the eve of this masquerade and I find myself without a date. I hope none of you gentlemen mind me cutting in on you when the time comes.

[His tone is a little at odds with his expression, which is patently apologetic. His voice, however, is steeped in savoir-faire. Because what playboy wouldn't be happy to go stag amidst a party of beautiful women, I mean really.]

And on that note, I would officially like to extend my gratitude to Favrielle nó Eglantine for making this event a possibility in the first place, and for sharing this aspect of her culture with us. She's been a rock of our community for some months now, and she deserves every ounce of recognition her genius affords her.

[encrypted; AGENT CAROLINA | hackable]

Carolina, would you be interested in coming with? As a bodyguard of sorts, a strictly professional basis.

[encrypted; OLIVIA DUNHAM | hackable]

I don't suppose you're feeling up to a dance or two? I cut a mean tango.

[encrypted; BAT!DICK | unhackable]

Keep an eye on the newcomers.

[It goes without saying that Bruce is suspicious of both Tim and Jason, oops.]

[encrypted; ROBIN!DICK | unhackable]

I need to speak with you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Bruce wants to "discuss."]

Where?

[Bruce is tempted to offer him a public venue. A peace offering.

And he considers it. He really does. If it was before Jason... maybe he even would have gone through with it. But he's not in the mood to be generous or peaceable, and his tone is firm when he speaks.]

Warehouse B. One hour. Bring your gear.

Okay.

[He actually arrives a little early, decked out in full gear and looking for all intents and purposes like someone waiting to be raked over the coals. He knows that tone of voice.

But there's something in his posture that says that he's about ready to snap, if this conversation goes the wrong way.]

[And Bruce is there, on the mats. He's been visibly exerting himself - both his hair and shirt are sweat-damp and the former is in a state of disarray, falling across his forehead.

But he looks calm. Relaxed. He's sitting padmāsana, perfectly balanced and poised. Meditation, but lightly so. He's facing away from Dick, towards the wall, and doesn't move when he enters.

There is a part of him that knows he needs to walk a line of absolute calm during this conversation.]

Come here, Dick. Please.

[His tone is still firm, but there's no trace of anger. A teacher's voice.]

[He moves forward with thinly-veiled trepidation. He stands immediately in front of Bruce, but he doesn't sit. He wasn't asked to.

For that matter, he doesn't even speak. He knows better.]

[Bruce sighs, though he doesn't relax the precarious posture of the asana.

It's the trepidation that does it more than anything. What exactly does Dick think he's capable of?]

Dick, I'm not going to yell at you. Relax.

[That's ... probably an order more than a suggestion, but he does mean well.]

[He doesn't quite relax, but he does look at Bruce.]

[A little quietly:] What did you want to talk about?

I -- [this is the difficult part] wanted to apologize.

[He nods to the mat beneath Dick's feet. The gesture is obvious - sit.]

[He sits down, looking completely puzzled.

He assumed this had something to do with Jason (that was really the only thing that's changed, other than Tim's arrival). So... why was Bruce apologizing?]

Why?

I'm not very good at considering myself part of a team. It has... something to do with old dogs and new tricks. I work alone, despite my various partnerships, and I prefer doing so even when I can see and recognize the value in acting otherwise.

[He moves his hands, now, to his knees, and exhales. It throws off the balance of the posture, but he doesn't mind.]

That's what I've been doing here. Even though-- I have all of you to rely on. To me, it's a way of keeping you safe. But it's come to my attention that it can... appear as a lack of trust on my behalf.

[He's silent for a moment. If he's being honest, it really felt like that. Worse, really, because it made the difference between feeling tolerated and accepted.

He debates on what to say back and, using what he has gleaned from their earlier conversations, tries for something relatively neutral.]

I thought it was because you didn't know me. Because I'm from a different world. That's... [Maybe feeling a little awkward admitting this.] that's why I was trying so hard. I wanted to earn your trust, not just get it.

You never needed to earn it. Of all the people I've ever met, Dick, no one is more worthy.

[As much as he dislikes the judgement of this other self in making Dick Robin so young (he has no doubt that Dick's Bruce thought himself justified) he knows he wouldn't have done it unless Dick was worth it.

His Richard Grayson always was.]

[He's not quite sure what to do with that. After months of trying to prove himself trustworthy and competent? He didn't need to.

And Bruce is talking about feelings again. He's never sure what to do with these conversations. Though he has to admit being called trustworthy makes him feel really happy. He smiles a little.]

Thanks. It means a lot. Really, really means a lot.

[It's okay, Bruce sucks at them too. After a moment, he stands. The motion is graceful and fluid, a perfect economy of motion. He may not be as... acrobatic as Dick is, but he doesn't need to be.

He holds out a hand.]

Come on. When was the last time we sparred?

[He takes the hand up.]

Um, technically never.

[He knows that was a rhetorical question, by the way.]

[Bruce snorts.]

Show me what you've got.

[Why do you think he asked you to bring your gear, Dick.]

Alright, but I'm not going to hold back.

[He knows he can't beat Bruce. Ever. But nothing like a little teasing to loosen up his still-jangled nerves.

He walks back, getting some distance, and waits for Bruce to take his position.

[He wouldn't expect anything else. Bruce's sparring sessions are a little 'sink or swim' and they always have been. He pulls his punches - Bruce knows damn well that one errant blow from him could crush ribs and collapse lungs on even the toughest opponents he's faced - but only just. It's rare that any of his students leave without bruises.

He shifts into the neutral form of Krav Maga - hands down by his sides, feet slightly wider than a shoulder width apart - and nods to Dick. It's not quite a direct order that he should act first, but it's definitely a strong suggestion.]

[Dick inclines his head slightly and changes his stance. He'll take the offense. There's a brief moment before he reacts. He's strategizing.

First and foremost, he has to get under Bruce's strong guard but still keep avenues open so he can duck out if he needs to. He's going to need room to move. Close-range attacks can only work for so long before he either has to retreat and rethink or, more often, Bruce pushes him away with a kick or throw.

An aerial attack. Obvious, sure, but he doesn't expect it'll work. It might get him close, especially if he can use Bruce's guard or grab to his advantage.

He doesn't plan beyond this. Bruce knows him way too well-- no matter how hard he tried, he'd probably be broadcasting his moves to Bruce if he planned ahead too far. It was one of the downsides to their relationship.

After the brief moment has passed, he dashes ahead, aiming a kick directly at Bruce's head.]

[When Bruce spars with Tim, it's a game of chess. Point and counterpoint. Feints within feints. It's almost never about the physical side of combat, it's about thinking about the next thirty possible moves, where they might deviate from form.

Dick is more like Stephanie. He thinks on the fly, seizes opportunities as he sees them. Less rigid than Bruce or Tim, there's a fluidity to his character that makes him good at what he does in all the ways Bruce isn't.

He'd never admit it, but this... as much as Dick doesn't have the practiced, streamlined savvy of the Dick from Bruce's time, seeing him like this brings him back to those early years.

He doesn't quite smile, but there's something in his body language to suggest it as he throws up an arm to block that kick and sidesteps at the same time. No offensive moves yet. Unlike Dick, he's biding his time.]

[Dick is used to reading Bruce's moods and emotions more through his body language than his actual facial expressions. So he sees the "smile" and replies with a smile of his own (a proper smile).

A block. Much better than a grab would be for him, strategically speaking. Now he's closer, though not quite close enough, thanks to Bruce's side-step. He lands, using any remaining momentum to attempt a dash under Bruce's guard with the intention of attempting a few well-placed punches to his face.

Right now? Pretty predictable. But he's warming up.]

[Bruce falls back, the retreat as much strategy as necessity for the maintenance of his defense. Dick doesn't have the skill (even in a decade) to take him in a head-on fight, so this is an obvious attempt to buy himself some breathing room so he can fall back on some other tactic.

At the final blow, though, Bruce reaches out to catch one of Dick's wrists, intent on tossing him several yards across the mat.]

[He doesn't try to break the grab-- Bruce is too strong and fast for that-- so he prepares himself to go with the momentum of the throw. If nothing else, he'll make sure he lands on his feet.

Then he'll have to re-strategize.]

[Bruce could teach him a hard lesson here, but chooses not to, instead letting him go at the exact right moment to regain his feet with a minimum of effort.]

[He can sense that Bruce went easy on him. Which is something he appreciates and later he'll have to figure out how he could've done it better.

But he's too focused on the fight right now, using the momentum to dash at Bruce and... is he flip right over Bruce's head?

Yep.]

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