[Is it strange that the only reason Dick actually invites Bruce over is for the very same reason that Bruce might hesitate to come. He would never bring his mentor into his home. It would be odd and feel far too much like he was exposing some private, inner part of himself. This feels vastly different, for as much as there is similar, there is difference.

Dick would never in any million of a human's years settle on a couch with his mentor, and yet here he finds himself observant of Bruce, tracing scars with his eyes and noting the weighted lines where slumber never reaches below. The hollow pallor should be off-putting and yet it makes for such a striking contrast to the eyes that reach further into the caped crusader than he was ready for at the moment. Icy blue, and brilliant at the same time. There's so much written beyond them. Dick only knows it in part, but is deeply curious in the same way that Bruce tends to be.

A hand reaches out, and then drops when Dick realizes his motion. Instead he coughs, and turns to open the decanter and pour out another round of drinks for them both. It's easier to drink to the new year with a beverage in hand. ]

I guess that's something.

[Fumbling about his mind for a distant thought, or one closer by, Dick does everything he can to navigate away from those eyes. The alcohol dips and curls along the crystal of his glass. Maybe Dick didn't always spend his money, but he kept a few things from growing up. There was always good liquor to be found, and very nice glasses for it to be had in. ]

So tell me Bruce, what is your New Year's resolution. Is there anything new I should know about?