[He was still shrugging out of the jacket when Dick started to ruffle his curls and for a moment, the gesture just....froze him. Not quite startled, but still off centered enough that it took a moment for his brain to reboot.
Blue tipped gloves catching the edge of the raised scar under the white patch helped that reboot along and Jay was quick to reach up and grab Dick's wrist in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough that Dick's fingers were safely off the only scar from before that actually still kinda hurt.]
I...sorry. It's, uh...a little sensitive.
[He let Dick's wrist go carefully, chewing his lower lip for an awkward moment before he cleared his throat and moved over to the sink to scrub his hands.]
[he'd traced the scar very briefly, felt the texture catch on the fabric of his suit-- he's froze as well, shocked by what he finds....what they continue to find out what Bruce continues to do.
Dick lets his hands settle in his lap for a second. He takes a deep breath, watches his brother's shoulders, that familiar shape of them-- just much broader.
The best he can do is to do as he said-- strip the top half of the suit off, and don't apologize. That'd just make it more awkward, wouldn't it?
The wound in his side is still sluggishly bleeding, curled down to one hip, cutting through various other old scars. His skin is already starting to purple.]
[That lack of apology is appreciated and by the time Dick was out of the top half of his suit and Jason was scrubbed up to his elbows, the awkwardness was starting to ebb. It was kinda nice, that quiet acceptance. It was so very different from the way he and Bruce tended to ramp each other up until one or both of them snapped.
Tossing away the paper towel he'd used to dry off his hands, Jason pulled a rather hefty looking toolbox from inside one of the lockers. It thumped hard against the table when Jason set it down and, when he flipped it open, it was full of medical supplies.]
I've got glue or sutures. Pick your poison. The sutures will leave less of a scar.
[Maybe it's the blood loss, maybe it's the explosions, maybe it's seeing his brother again like this, maybe it's Maybelline?
Dick isn't looking forward to all the fuss and mess, never does, but at least any fear he could have built over needles never got the chance to thrive. He gives a whistle when he spots all the equipment in the box.]
Well we both know I care so much about my looks. [an eyeroll] Whichever one'll have me up on my feet quicker.
[He rolled his eyes, shooting Dick a familiar lopsided smirk before he turned back to his supplies.]
I mean, you said it, not me.
[He set up quickly, pulling on gloves and laying out a sterile field to lay his tools out on before he was gesturing for Dick to lay back down and get comfortable so he could start cleaning out the slash.]
What was this, anyway? A pocket knife? You going soft in your old age?
[There might even be something a little soothing about the motions of getting tools ready. More if it's him on the table, and not one of the others. Those times are precarious, toes-on-the-edge moments.
Dick stretches out further, lets his arms dangle over the edges of the table.]
Me? Soft? I think it was some ceremonial knife, something different. And a couple of distractions.
[It was almost soothing, wasn't it? The hurt of getting patched back together after the night had gone harder then anticipated. All that was missing was Alfred's quiet reassurance and Bruce's tongue lashing.
Or maybe that last part had just been Jason. He'd never been a particularly good Robin, after all.]
That would explain why it was so dull. Is it still an active case or was the fire my clue that it's done?
[He fell easily into the habit of chattering to keep Dick distracted as he waited for the lidocaine to start dulling the edge of the pain as he worked.]
[He wonders when he's going to get Jason's lecture. Just because they've all tried to remove themselves from that shadow at one time or another, doesn't mean it hasn't followed them. The worry for one another certainly hasn't. For better or worse.]
Those guys shouldn't recover from that....for awhile, anyway.
[Dick would be waiting a while. The only thing that Jason might lecture him about was the fact that he waited until he was bleeding and broken before calling someone in. And maybe grill him a bit on how Dick managed to get his phone number.
Though, honestly, that lecture would probably go to Babs before it went anywhere else.]
Hn. Good. If they come back, hit me up. I've always like playing with fire, you know that.
[It was the closest Dick was going to get to a 'be careful and bring backup, idiot'.
He worked quietly and quickly, a lifetime of training and practice in his hands as he sewed up the wound and carefully wiped down the area in betadine before taping a bandage into place. Then it was a matter of helping Dick to sit up so he could wrap his entire torso in a compression bandage to keep his ribs in place and to help stop the knife wound from bleeding through the stitches.]
[And Babs is just going to love hearing it from these two. It's like a neverending cycle of lectures and disappointment.
Dick keeps the hissing and squirming to a minimum, perfectly still aside from a bit of shaking here and there, and when he's finally wrapped up, he tries not to exhale to deeply and give the bandage some slack. He offers Jason a relieved, if not tired, smile]
Thanks again, Jay. I know you were busy, but thanks for coming either way. If you want to put a bag over my head while you escort me out, I'll understand. [he chuckles]
[She deserved to get her ear chewed on a little for giving out his phone number. He was still mad at Bruce, after all. Dick, a little less so, but where one went, the other was sure to follow.
Still, he huffed a small laugh and shook his head as he started to clean up everything he'd used.]
You weren't bagged when I brought you here, what good would bagging you now do? Besides, it's just a safehouse. I can burn it and be in the wind by morning.
Please don't burn it down...! [There's something actually alarmed on his face, because he knows Jason will absolutely do that, without a second of hesitation.
It's still always better when they're laughing and not screaming at one another]
[He snorted, rolling his eyes a little as he threw away the trash and disposed of the used sharps in the bright red container that lived in the locker he'd pulled the tool box out of.]
Relax, birdie. Even if I did actually set it on fire, it's all concrete. Nothing will spread.
[He smirked to show that he wasn't being serious.]
[And what follows isn't a sigh of relief, but those broad shoulders do relax the tiniest bit. he's pulling the top half of the suit back on slowly, now, rolling one shoulder]
True, buildings just aren't what they used to be around here. Made of toilet paper and what, matchsticks? If you ever need a place, though... [he trails off]
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Blue tipped gloves catching the edge of the raised scar under the white patch helped that reboot along and Jay was quick to reach up and grab Dick's wrist in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough that Dick's fingers were safely off the only scar from before that actually still kinda hurt.]
I...sorry. It's, uh...a little sensitive.
[He let Dick's wrist go carefully, chewing his lower lip for an awkward moment before he cleared his throat and moved over to the sink to scrub his hands.]
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what Bruce continues to do.Dick lets his hands settle in his lap for a second. He takes a deep breath, watches his brother's shoulders, that familiar shape of them-- just much broader.
The best he can do is to do as he said-- strip the top half of the suit off, and don't apologize. That'd just make it more awkward, wouldn't it?
The wound in his side is still sluggishly bleeding, curled down to one hip, cutting through various other old scars. His skin is already starting to purple.]
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Tossing away the paper towel he'd used to dry off his hands, Jason pulled a rather hefty looking toolbox from inside one of the lockers. It thumped hard against the table when Jason set it down and, when he flipped it open, it was full of medical supplies.]
I've got glue or sutures. Pick your poison. The sutures will leave less of a scar.
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Dick isn't looking forward to all the fuss and mess, never does, but at least any fear he could have built over needles never got the chance to thrive. He gives a whistle when he spots all the equipment in the box.]
Well we both know I care so much about my looks. [an eyeroll] Whichever one'll have me up on my feet quicker.
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I mean, you said it, not me.
[He set up quickly, pulling on gloves and laying out a sterile field to lay his tools out on before he was gesturing for Dick to lay back down and get comfortable so he could start cleaning out the slash.]
What was this, anyway? A pocket knife? You going soft in your old age?
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Dick stretches out further, lets his arms dangle over the edges of the table.]
Me? Soft? I think it was some ceremonial knife, something different. And a couple of distractions.
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Or maybe that last part had just been Jason. He'd never been a particularly good Robin, after all.]
That would explain why it was so dull. Is it still an active case or was the fire my clue that it's done?
[He fell easily into the habit of chattering to keep Dick distracted as he waited for the lidocaine to start dulling the edge of the pain as he worked.]
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Those guys shouldn't recover from that....for awhile, anyway.
[a little more hurt to mend the hurt.]
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Though, honestly, that lecture would probably go to Babs before it went anywhere else.]
Hn. Good. If they come back, hit me up. I've always like playing with fire, you know that.
[It was the closest Dick was going to get to a 'be careful and bring backup, idiot'.
He worked quietly and quickly, a lifetime of training and practice in his hands as he sewed up the wound and carefully wiped down the area in betadine before taping a bandage into place. Then it was a matter of helping Dick to sit up so he could wrap his entire torso in a compression bandage to keep his ribs in place and to help stop the knife wound from bleeding through the stitches.]
There we go. You shouldn't die.
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Dick keeps the hissing and squirming to a minimum, perfectly still aside from a bit of shaking here and there, and when he's finally wrapped up, he tries not to exhale to deeply and give the bandage some slack. He offers Jason a relieved, if not tired, smile]
Thanks again, Jay. I know you were busy, but thanks for coming either way. If you want to put a bag over my head while you escort me out, I'll understand. [he chuckles]
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Still, he huffed a small laugh and shook his head as he started to clean up everything he'd used.]
You weren't bagged when I brought you here, what good would bagging you now do? Besides, it's just a safehouse. I can burn it and be in the wind by morning.
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It's still always better when they're laughing and not screaming at one another]
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Relax, birdie. Even if I did actually set it on fire, it's all concrete. Nothing will spread.
[He smirked to show that he wasn't being serious.]
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True, buildings just aren't what they used to be around here. Made of toilet paper and what, matchsticks? If you ever need a place, though... [he trails off]