If after everything that went down tonight, this is what exhausts you...
[ He can't finish the sentence without a sinister little laugh. ]
...you've got great stamina.
[ An appraisal that implicitly sets expectations. She knows the dance he's already doing, what it's drawing out of her just as it rescues her from the uncertainty she was stewing in before. Perhaps it's a certainty she needs, just as much as he does. It all definitely beats the the suspension of not knowing, of the maybes and should haves that they've been living with until now. Either way, Dick's tired of the variables. Of letting fate, or even the mission, dictate matters of the heart. If he really wants this, he'll put in the work.
If she really want this, he'll do all the overtime it takes. ]
Your attention's not all I plan to take, Hana. I need to score a few wins that are long overdue.
[ They held a close tie in Hana's favor on the PS6 port of Street Fighter III: 3rd Strike. The fact she murdered him with a perfectly executed Daigo parry two matches in a row? Absolutely criminal. Dick has had no choice but to consider himself a 'dead Robin' ever since.
At least the scars surface to show how often he's only ever come close to death. Sustaining many a blade wound and bullet graze, Dick maintains an eclectic collection of scar tissue. A sign that for all the kevlar lining and fancy tech that reinforce his Nightwing suit, he can never get too complacent with technology. So much will always rely on his wits and his skill - things you can't equip on a dime, like armor. ]
Call it compensation. At least I didn't outright tell you "I need healing."
[ Though the labor involved in pointing the Caduceus Staff isn't a high cost. It heartens him to listen to Hana's laughter, his own smile insinuating his enjoyment. Not in the voyeurism he's letting her indulge in, but in the mere sound of her laughter. The humor they can still share, even as she's trying to heal a wound that was made in an attempt on Dick's life. And when the work is finished and the wound is sealed, leaving a scar as the only trace of it, Slade can go wallow in his cell. Nightwing's gonna be fine enough to handle whatever Deathstroke throws at him next. ]
Huh.
[ He doesn't hesitate to let Hana appraise the wound, or where once there was one. She's as close now as she was before they started kissing, though. Back on the beach. ]
It's like new, is what it is. Can't say "good as" because of the scarring, but... good enough.
[ While Hana's still appraising his tricep, Dick reaches with his opposite hand to take hers, interrupting its discernments. ]
You, on the other hand. More than good enough.
Maybe more than I deserve.
[ That's him just attempting flattery for once, instead of self-flagellating over his perceived shortcomings. Because then he pulls Hana in close, until her chest meets his (by their height difference, that really means his sternum). He wants to kiss her again, looking down at her with a wistful smile. But then... he hesitates. He lets go of her hand, though he doesn't step back to distance himself from where she's standing. ]
no subject
[ He can't finish the sentence without a sinister little laugh. ]
...you've got great stamina.
[ An appraisal that implicitly sets expectations. She knows the dance he's already doing, what it's drawing out of her just as it rescues her from the uncertainty she was stewing in before. Perhaps it's a certainty she needs, just as much as he does. It all definitely beats the the suspension of not knowing, of the maybes and should haves that they've been living with until now. Either way, Dick's tired of the variables. Of letting fate, or even the mission, dictate matters of the heart. If he really wants this, he'll put in the work.
If she really want this, he'll do all the overtime it takes. ]
Your attention's not all I plan to take, Hana. I need to score a few wins that are long overdue.
[ They held a close tie in Hana's favor on the PS6 port of Street Fighter III: 3rd Strike. The fact she murdered him with a perfectly executed Daigo parry two matches in a row? Absolutely criminal. Dick has had no choice but to consider himself a 'dead Robin' ever since.
At least the scars surface to show how often he's only ever come close to death. Sustaining many a blade wound and bullet graze, Dick maintains an eclectic collection of scar tissue. A sign that for all the kevlar lining and fancy tech that reinforce his Nightwing suit, he can never get too complacent with technology. So much will always rely on his wits and his skill - things you can't equip on a dime, like armor. ]
Call it compensation. At least I didn't outright tell you "I need healing."
[ Though the labor involved in pointing the Caduceus Staff isn't a high cost. It heartens him to listen to Hana's laughter, his own smile insinuating his enjoyment. Not in the voyeurism he's letting her indulge in, but in the mere sound of her laughter. The humor they can still share, even as she's trying to heal a wound that was made in an attempt on Dick's life. And when the work is finished and the wound is sealed, leaving a scar as the only trace of it, Slade can go wallow in his cell. Nightwing's gonna be fine enough to handle whatever Deathstroke throws at him next. ]
Huh.
[ He doesn't hesitate to let Hana appraise the wound, or where once there was one. She's as close now as she was before they started kissing, though. Back on the beach. ]
It's like new, is what it is. Can't say "good as" because of the scarring, but... good enough.
[ While Hana's still appraising his tricep, Dick reaches with his opposite hand to take hers, interrupting its discernments. ]
You, on the other hand. More than good enough.
Maybe more than I deserve.
[ That's him just attempting flattery for once, instead of self-flagellating over his perceived shortcomings. Because then he pulls Hana in close, until her chest meets his (by their height difference, that really means his sternum). He wants to kiss her again, looking down at her with a wistful smile. But then... he hesitates. He lets go of her hand, though he doesn't step back to distance himself from where she's standing. ]
Thank you.
Maybe we should finish our food first.