Desperate times call for desperate measures then, huh?
Though I don't know about getting all of Overwatch involved. Don't want my jokes to have too many casualties.
[ The divide between them, less by time apart and more by experience, reveals itself in Hana's reaction. How unsure she seems of what to say, whereas Dick is already so forthright about his intentions. Like he's read the room and knows there's nothing to fear from a little nudge in the direction they both - so very possibly - want. But he wouldn't take this kind of chance or hazard this kind of guess against just anybody.
And Hana's eventual acceptance of his offer only cements the notion. No suspicion lingers between them that she's any less special to him than she was years ago. That for all their time apart, they still want each other.
Her talk of "guests" causes him to smirk. Another thing he's more than happy to clear the air about. ]
You'd be the first. First in a long time.
So forgive me if I'm a bit rusty.
[ And when Hana finally readies the staff, keen to get it over with rather than prolong his suffering, Dick turns so that his wounded arm faces her. Shouldn't be a problem for the healing beam at this point. Straightforwardly, it should begin mending his wounds, even if the tech doesn't act as quickly as the model currently in Mercy's hands. ]
Don't worry. You know as well as I how conspicuous the damn console is.
[ Now Dick readies himself, watching the beam Hana had triggered into existence finally travel into his body, casting an angelic aura around him. And though he can feel the pain diminishing, however gradually, he feels that the wound itself isn't mending all the way. At least not yet. ]
That's weird. Something must be interfering with the beam's potency.
There's gotta be a way to expedite the process...
[ Even while the aura still radiates around his body, Dick turns briefly to face an empty table, where he begins placing his accoutrements. His mask, his gauntlets, shoulder pads, chest plate, all of it-- as well the bandage he'd wrapped around his wounded arm. All until he can finally remove the top half of his Nightwing suit. In the dim lights of this facility, every striation of muscle is harshened by shadow. Every scar, for that matter, is all the more pronounced. More, it seems, have accumulated since the last time Hana's seen him in this state. But from his disposition, unperturbed by the need to undress if it hastens proceedings, Dick's no worse for wear.
Instead he turns to make his wounded arm face the staff once more. ]
That's better. The thing can finally do what it's meant to.
[ And truly, his theory works. Several moments pass as his wound gradually seals, until nothing is left but a fresh scar to indicate its former presence. ]
Definitely gonna need some cover fire if we ever use this out in the field.
no subject
Though I don't know about getting all of Overwatch involved. Don't want my jokes to have too many casualties.
[ The divide between them, less by time apart and more by experience, reveals itself in Hana's reaction. How unsure she seems of what to say, whereas Dick is already so forthright about his intentions. Like he's read the room and knows there's nothing to fear from a little nudge in the direction they both - so very possibly - want. But he wouldn't take this kind of chance or hazard this kind of guess against just anybody.
And Hana's eventual acceptance of his offer only cements the notion. No suspicion lingers between them that she's any less special to him than she was years ago. That for all their time apart, they still want each other.
Her talk of "guests" causes him to smirk. Another thing he's more than happy to clear the air about. ]
You'd be the first. First in a long time.
So forgive me if I'm a bit rusty.
[ And when Hana finally readies the staff, keen to get it over with rather than prolong his suffering, Dick turns so that his wounded arm faces her. Shouldn't be a problem for the healing beam at this point. Straightforwardly, it should begin mending his wounds, even if the tech doesn't act as quickly as the model currently in Mercy's hands. ]
Don't worry. You know as well as I how conspicuous the damn console is.
[ Now Dick readies himself, watching the beam Hana had triggered into existence finally travel into his body, casting an angelic aura around him. And though he can feel the pain diminishing, however gradually, he feels that the wound itself isn't mending all the way. At least not yet. ]
That's weird. Something must be interfering with the beam's potency.
There's gotta be a way to expedite the process...
[ Even while the aura still radiates around his body, Dick turns briefly to face an empty table, where he begins placing his accoutrements. His mask, his gauntlets, shoulder pads, chest plate, all of it-- as well the bandage he'd wrapped around his wounded arm. All until he can finally remove the top half of his Nightwing suit. In the dim lights of this facility, every striation of muscle is harshened by shadow. Every scar, for that matter, is all the more pronounced. More, it seems, have accumulated since the last time Hana's seen him in this state. But from his disposition, unperturbed by the need to undress if it hastens proceedings, Dick's no worse for wear.
Instead he turns to make his wounded arm face the staff once more. ]
That's better. The thing can finally do what it's meant to.
[ And truly, his theory works. Several moments pass as his wound gradually seals, until nothing is left but a fresh scar to indicate its former presence. ]
Definitely gonna need some cover fire if we ever use this out in the field.
But what do you think, "Dr. Song?" Am I good?