Bats And The Arts | (Closed to Batfam)

[timmers]

who: Tim and Damian (for now)
what: Robin bonding
when: Festival of Lights
where: The Gardens
warnings: None, at this time. Potentially, violence.

Tim had had enough networking and observation for one night and left the glittering crowd to get some fresh air in. Preferably, somewhere quiet. The pool was out,  not with these scars, so that left the gardens. It'd been a while since he'd been able to look at one and not be reminded of getting choked by vines. The flowers were interestingly alien enough that he almost wished he had more of an interest in horticulture-- beyond what he knew he'd need to identify.

He walked deeper into the paths, avoiding the places where people, especially couples, had settled. It was peaceful-- up until he spots a familiar small grump.

"...So this is where you ran off to." 

Comments

[sonofab]

Damian had more than enough social time thank you. He successfully found an exit and had taken refuge in the garden. Why had Todd dragged him here? Was it the man's idea of torture to force Damian into social situations until he snapped perhaps? Whatever the reason, he wasn't going to win today.

This place was nice. Quiet and peaceful. Normally things that made Damian suspicious but right now he needed it. He was sketching in a notepad when he heard a familiar and annoying voice. "And yet still not far enough." He grumbled and gave Drake an irritated side eye.

The pest just kept finding him. It was like having the ghost of the fallen Robin haunting him because the conflicted mix of rage and guilt he already had over Tim Drake's death just wasn't enough it seemed.

[timmers]

Annnd back to being a bright little ray of sunshine, too. He'd been almost tolerable for whole minutes at a time, back with the lion.

"...You're taking notes? Is that for homework?" Tim tilted his head towards the pad of paper on Damian's lap. He wasn't at the right angle to see what Damian was doing with it. He'd never seen the gremlin do anything besides fight and train, but he was a bit surprised. He hadn't thought Damian was the analogue type.

[sonofab]

"Homework? Please." Damian grunted but didn't bother hiding what he was doing since well, it wasn't any notes or really anything of importance. He was sketching a drawn of Alfred from his last memory of the cat. It wasn't a masterpiece, but it was life like enough.

It wasn't really meant to be a great work, it was more something to do while he attempted to shut his mind off if only for a moment. Not that it was working out great, but it had been enough to relax him. Well, at least until Drake found him. "It's nothing of importance." He closed the pad and turned a cold gaze towards Drake. "Why are you haunting me, deadman?"

[timmers]

Tim moved to get a better look. A... cat? He hadn't seen any in these gardens. It was almost eerily quiet, actually, except for the faint strains of music from the ball.

"Same reason you keep turning up like a bad penny." Which was to say, probably serendipity and fate's awful sense of humor. He'd fully intended to get as far away from Damian and Dick as possible, even when he'd made the decision to go back to Gotham. He'd considered moving abroad for good, like Cass had. That this one wasn't his world's Damian was little comfort.

Still. "...That's actually pretty good. Since when could you draw?"

[sonofab]

Bad Penny? Pennyworth was never bad, what's wrong with you Drake?

"My whole life. I do it at the manor all the time." Damian said as he stood back up. Still, he supposed it wasn't a surprise that Drake didn't know. He wasn't even sure Drake back home ever knew. This one was likely barely around either so wouldn't know a thing about his Damian aside from how much he didn't want him to be Robin.

Or maybe his Damian didn't paint. Admitted it was hard sometimes distinguishing his Drake from this one. 'This one is alive. Big difference.'

[timmers]

The manor? Well it wasn't like the penthouse life was sustainable for that long, he supposed. Alfred would've missed having more room in the kitchen.

"Huh... I guess I just didn't figure they had time to teach you all that along with the assassin stuff. It seems..." Frivolous, for an Al Ghul. It wasn't like R'as had ever shown an inclination for the arts that he knew of.

[sonofab]

"Practice in an art or music increase intelligence. I was taught both." Naturally. Damian adds silently, looking unimpressed with Drake's assumption. It wasn't like he was a mindless killing machine. Strategy and planning were just as important as the physical training, even if less fun at times.

Not painting though. He rather enjoyed the arts and found it therapeutic. He was also taught some dance for balance, but he'll keep that stuff to himself.

[timmers]

"You mean some time between you learning how to kill people 23 ways with nothing but your teeth?" Tim asked drily. "I hope they paid your tutors overtime. Just surprised you decided to keep it up." After all, this was the kid who, he was pretty sure, didn't know how to relax or have fun that wasn't destructive. He considered the drawing. It was... good, really. He's not much of an artist, aside the occasional dabbling when he wanted to sketch up designs, but he'd started using software for that.

As for his music-- well they'd hired a piano instructor, for a while. She'd been very nice and had allowed Mrs. Mac some breathing room. He'd never be a virtuoso, though. The idea that Damian was better than him at something definitely rankled. But it wasn't like he'd ever wanted to start a band. That was more of Kon or Bart's thing.

"Are you as good with music as you are drawing cats?"

[sonofab]

"Please. I know at least 100 ways to kill with my teeth." Don't insult him, Drake and at that, he just tilted his head and gave a smirk. "Hm, those that weren't killed once the skill was mastered." He said, as usual leaving no clarification to how much of what he said was a lie and what was fact.

The truly frightening part is that most anything horrible Damian said could very well be true, but good luck getting him to admit to the facts. "I excel at it all." Though he hadn't played the violin for some time, it was hard for Damian to forget a skill. It was hard for him to forget anything he was taught with the Al Ghuls. "Why? You looking for music lessons, Drake?"

[timmers]

"That must win them points on Employer of the Year." Tim folded his arms. It wasn't like the Al Ghul cared too much about any of their servants or employees, that much was fact or Ra's would've at least asked after the ones he'd sent with him.

"I'll pass. If I wanted more lessons, I'd call up an actual instructor. Little side benefit to not killing them." Damian's tone never failed to rankle. Maybe it was the pedigree. "Did you even get a recital or did they just write you a nice note?"

[sonofab]

"You sure? I'd be happy to school you anytime, Drake." Damian says menacingly but his expression remained calm and impassive, even if inside he wanted to just make Drake go away. He came out here to get away and instead he was getting questioned about having a hobby?

Why did Drake even care? Was he just trying to get a rise out of him? It had felt like that ever since the cabin. Perhaps the other teen was making the same mistake he had been and was looking for his world's Damian in the one here. It's fine because Damian can play this game too. "If the lessons didn't stick with you the first time, then you really are just a hopeless case. It's fine. You're just as talentless in my world too. You being the easy-to-forget-Robin seems to be universal." He said dryly.

[timmers]

"I don't need schooling from someone who's never been." Tim said, shaking his head. "You might've gotten lessons but you missed out on the growing up."

But that-- that, he couldn't let stand. "Just as well. After you, being Robin won't mean much," he shot back, stung despite himself. Robin was a duty, an honor and not a tool to keep juvenile delinquents in line. It just so happened Dick hadn't seen it the same way. He'd warned Dick not to let Damian destroy what they'd made Robin to be. But he'd always known it was never his to keep. And a few months in the desert and almost dying a couple of times had made it plenty clear. He wasn't Robin anymore. And he never would be again.

It just really got his goat when Damian said it.

[sonofab]

"I was schooled in a far different way." Damian said, impassively, but that did sting. Having it rubbed in how abnormal he was, how his disconnect was likely permanent, he wasn't unaware of it. Of how father and Grayson sometimes worried themselves, how they tried to show him normal things only to have disappointed looks or outright cringes when he just didn't respond to them the way a normal person would.

Rather than upset, Damian has a flash of confusion at the venom to Drake's words. "Strong opinion considering you barely got the suit warm. I've been Robin longer because I am and will continue to be the best for the job."

[timmers]

"Barely? I spent four years in the suit, making it better. It's the only reason you have pants. That's still a whole year longer than you." Damian may have insulted everything from is name to his capabilities, but he's never actually challenged his tenure. What was that supposed to be about?

"If you're the 'best' than it's only at blowing hot air."

[sonofab]

"You're worthless ass barely lasted a fucking year!" Damian barked back at him. "I have not only been the longest and best Robin! I have also been the best son! While you're a disappointment even to your real parents!" Oh yes, he went there. All Robin have their talents. Damian's was words like knives and he aimed to make deep gashes.

[timmers]

In what screwed up kind of world would he have been barely Robin for a-- Tim caught himself, remembering, abruptly, that Damian's world and his were never guaranteed to be the same. Damian might still be Damian-- but who knew what else diverged? Damian-- Damian had said his parents were alive. Maybe if they were, that meant he'd quit Robin sooner. Been...normal.

He flinched. It was almost like Damian had read his mind. "My father told me he was proud before he died. That it was worth it to save people's lives. That's why I'm still doing this. And that's why you still don't understand what being Robin means and that's all I need to know you're not the best."

[sonofab]

Damian was gearing up to keep yelling, but stopped. What the other teen was saying made no sense. Right, what he had just said about Drake’s parents was with the mindset that they were safe in witness protection due to his Drake’s screw up. This one here though.

'His parents are dead...'

Damian started to deflate. He was losing himself in his anger again. What was it about Drake that was setting him off? Guilt, sure he was never close to Red Robin and the death shouldn't even bother him. He sometime felt like he didn’t even have the right to grieve, if you want to call it that. It made him do things like reopen Drake’s Titans or start to use Drake’s weapon, but insisted he was just following Robin tradition. Even though he prefered to make his own tradition.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you and I said what I did with some else in mind...” He said more explaining to himself. “...This argument is misplaced and I'm ending it.” With that he walked past, bumping Drake hard as he did.

[timmers]

Tim blinked when all the fight seemed to leave Damian. What was going on? Damian never-- at least, not his Damian. And wasn't that the crux of the problem?

He frowned, something suspiciously like guilt starting to creep up his neck. Or maybe that was the shame. He didn't even try to hit Damian back. Great, not only had he gotten into a fight with a kid, it hadn't even gone the way he thought it would.

"Damian," Tim dragged the word out of his mouth haltingly. "I don't know anything about you. Not the you now or the you from back home." Frankly, he hadn't wanted to. But it... wasn't like he couldn't at least coexist peacefully with a Damian. Probably.

"I shouldn't have talked like I did." But-- no, he bit that back. He could be the grown up. He would. Besides, it was a big city and it looked like Dick was still babysitting this Damian no matter what world it was. The pang of loss he felt at that was fainter now. He just had to stay out of their way. He was good at that.