[ “Stern talking to,” she says. Before Dick starts talking plans, that earns a chuckle out of him. ]
You sure I still don’t need one?
[ There’s a mischievous smirk, a glimmer of what Hana’s seen countless times. Back before the Magistrate, when Dick didn’t feel the need to be as guarded. When the Nightwing suit wasn’t so densely armored, but instead something finer. Sleeker. Simpler. Despite what the world has come to, there might be enough in Dick to remind Hana of what was. And perhaps, what still can be.
Something nearing this notion fills Dick’s mind, but he has to perish the thought to actually talk shop. Despite what he feels - what he’s always felt - and how much of it he might start to entertain... the mission still comes first. There’s a more imminent need, after all, to go over the details while there’s time. To continue fulfilling his duty to Gotham as Nightwing. But then the thought comes back, of what to make of this once the mission is over. The thought keeps coming back, no matter how much he tries to bury it. Now that he and Hana have crossed paths, and the longer she remains beside him, closer now than they’ve ever been in a long time... how can he not imagine the future?
So he compromises with himself. Asks Hana how she’s doing as both a personal and professional courtesy. “Same attitude,” huh? ]
This whole thing demands a lot from us both. Good to know you’ve got more than enough in you to rise to the occasion.
Again, not that there was ever any doubt.
[ Now he’s basically letting her know that he knows he was heard, earlier. Back when he was recovering Electrocutioner.
But he also knows she’s deflecting. It’s what he does too, and it’s what he’s been doing. So he lets it slide, knowing better than to jeopardize the mission by continuing to rock the boat... or Meka, rather.
Besides, he needs a chance to scoff in amusement at Hana’s remark. Her flippant manner of speaking here, he finds funny, but he knows it’s also coming from a more serious place. That of worry. ]
Do you mean my stunt earlier, saving Firefly? Everything else before and after?
Fallen into old habits, I guess. I’ve been leading a team that works in silence, in darkness.
The cues are different. The way we communicate, more subtle. Not quite the same energy I used to bring leading the Titans.
But in expanding our ranks I’ve had more engagements like this. The conflict has been escalating.
I need you because the stakes have expanded beyond subterfuge. I need someone who’ll help me get to where I want to be, for my team.
The question is, will you take me there? Are you okay doing that?
[ It just came out this way, what he’s saying. Like he wants something more genuine out of her, despite how much importance he places in keeping up appearances. He’s so at odds with himself about this, so conflicted that it’s frustrating... but he won’t know what to do with himself if he goes the night saying nothing: if he lets caution guide him to the point that small talk and cursory exchanges are all that pass between them.
He sighs, though, looking away in shame. He knows he’s undermining the mission by merely gesturing at old wounds. He seems to hope there’s a way to backpedal from this in six minutes, so the rest of the night can go smoothly, but— ]
no subject
You sure I still don’t need one?
[ There’s a mischievous smirk, a glimmer of what Hana’s seen countless times. Back before the Magistrate, when Dick didn’t feel the need to be as guarded. When the Nightwing suit wasn’t so densely armored, but instead something finer. Sleeker. Simpler. Despite what the world has come to, there might be enough in Dick to remind Hana of what was. And perhaps, what still can be.
Something nearing this notion fills Dick’s mind, but he has to perish the thought to actually talk shop. Despite what he feels - what he’s always felt - and how much of it he might start to entertain... the mission still comes first. There’s a more imminent need, after all, to go over the details while there’s time. To continue fulfilling his duty to Gotham as Nightwing. But then the thought comes back, of what to make of this once the mission is over. The thought keeps coming back, no matter how much he tries to bury it. Now that he and Hana have crossed paths, and the longer she remains beside him, closer now than they’ve ever been in a long time... how can he not imagine the future?
So he compromises with himself. Asks Hana how she’s doing as both a personal and professional courtesy. “Same attitude,” huh? ]
This whole thing demands a lot from us both. Good to know you’ve got more than enough in you to rise to the occasion.
Again, not that there was ever any doubt.
[ Now he’s basically letting her know that he knows he was heard, earlier. Back when he was recovering Electrocutioner.
But he also knows she’s deflecting. It’s what he does too, and it’s what he’s been doing. So he lets it slide, knowing better than to jeopardize the mission by continuing to rock the boat... or Meka, rather.
Besides, he needs a chance to scoff in amusement at Hana’s remark. Her flippant manner of speaking here, he finds funny, but he knows it’s also coming from a more serious place. That of worry. ]
Do you mean my stunt earlier, saving Firefly? Everything else before and after?
Fallen into old habits, I guess. I’ve been leading a team that works in silence, in darkness.
The cues are different. The way we communicate, more subtle. Not quite the same energy I used to bring leading the Titans.
But in expanding our ranks I’ve had more engagements like this. The conflict has been escalating.
I need you because the stakes have expanded beyond subterfuge. I need someone who’ll help me get to where I want to be, for my team.
The question is, will you take me there? Are you okay doing that?
[ It just came out this way, what he’s saying. Like he wants something more genuine out of her, despite how much importance he places in keeping up appearances. He’s so at odds with himself about this, so conflicted that it’s frustrating... but he won’t know what to do with himself if he goes the night saying nothing: if he lets caution guide him to the point that small talk and cursory exchanges are all that pass between them.
He sighs, though, looking away in shame. He knows he’s undermining the mission by merely gesturing at old wounds. He seems to hope there’s a way to backpedal from this in six minutes, so the rest of the night can go smoothly, but— ]
...Is it even fair for me to ask?