semblance of speed

[crusaded]

[ continued from here ]


Were Damian older, he might be able to see the logic in his father's words, but youth blinds him to everything but the rebuke. He barely registers the question that follows, too focused on containing the sudden rush of blinding anger to give any more eloquent a response than: "Tt."


"I'll take that as a yes," I remark, not unaware of the fury that has suddenly taken him over, a rush of hot and cold anger alike that leaves everything a storm in his wake. And while I have no particular desire to incite that in Damian, he also needs to learn how to control his temper, otherwise this partnership won't work. I need a Robin I can trust on patrol.

And I have the feeling that none of them fit that description right now.

"There are tailors in the city. It wouldn't take long to have your clothes altered."

Comments

[aworthyone]

"Then why haven't you done it already?" replies Damian, rolling his eyes. There were things he considered himself responsible for. Ensuring that his trousers clung to his legs like the rest of his training clothes isn't one of them, though it's something he'll apparently have to consider now.

[crusaded]

"Taken your clothes to the tailor?" I ask, feeling my brow arch. I try to remind myself that he's only a ten-year-old. And ten-year-olds tend to be difficult at that stage of life, developing, wanting to run on ahead, but ultimately finding themselves ill-equipped for adulthood. I wasn't an adult at ten, in spite of all that had happened. No, I was a reticent and overly taciturn child, and without Alfred's guidance, I wouldn't be half of what I am today.

But, I also remind myself, he isn't only a ten-year-old. He's my son.

"I admit, I didn't foresee you pedaling at breakneck speed in those pants."

[aworthyone]

Death should've proven that Batman is hardly infallible, but it's perhaps this fatherly oversight that begins to drive the point home that the same holds true for Bruce Wayne. Damian considers that for a moment, looks up at him, and turns away.

"If I'd had my motorcycle..." Damian says, sourly.

[crusaded]

"If you'd had your motorcycle, chances are it would have attracted too much attention to be any use to you," I point out. Perhaps he can well understand the conclusion that underlies all of that: because of how much attention it would attract, I wouldn't have allowed him to use it. Whether or not he would have listened to my instruction is, of course, another matter.

"There aren't many boys your age on the island, Damian. With Jason being rather talkative, I also suspect that a great deal of people know the other names we go by." There was no one within hearing range, last I checked, but I do a brief sweep once more— again, nothing. "But the less that they know about all that we can do, the better."