Nose flicks aren’t uncommon as they remain to be the safest way to wake Dick up from deadman snoozes without ending up with the blankets flung over your head or a kick in the face. Still, they aren’t very nice and Dick doesn’t appreciate them. At all.
He slips out of the room without alerting Abby to his reckless invasion of her privacy—though he thinks that she should know better than to crash-land herself in a vigilante’s home and then stay the whole night. That’s just dangerous. Really. She’s asking for trouble (of the mischievous sort!)
“I had full intentions to wake Arienne up,” he says as he intertwines his arm with Jason’s. “But your bed is just so soft so when I sat down and Roxy was there… It was fate to fall asleep again, J-Lo.”
If one boy could contain the entire sun, Dick Grayson was it, despite the Richard comment. (How impolite.) Even in the dead of the morning, he is a cheerful ray of bright and exuberant optimism. So, with a skip in his step he joins the his pseudo brother in the kitchen, hovering over the mercenary as he busies himself with taking out various pans and ingredients.
Whenever Dick was anxious, guilty, or just feeling awkward, he talked. A lot. So the ridiculous stream of verbage that was spewing out of his mouth wasn’t a surprise, or even something out of the ordinary; that didn’t, however, make it any less tolerable.
"Hey, Richard. Hush.”
Bacon went into the pan, popping merrily as it cooked. The sun, now fully risen, blazed in the morning sky. Jason could hear his shower running, and Roxy sniffing around for dropped morsels of food.
All in all, not a bad way to start the day.
“Richard? Why are you on top of the mantle?”
and all of this will never be the same again 