[There's a heaping ounce or two of pity that Dick feels for Bruce and none of it because he's beaten and bruised. The feelings he musters there all mount up to normal human concern that he'd tell himself not to fret over so much if his mind and body would listen to him. The pity all surrounds this horrible fascination people have with making the infirm lay around all day.
Dick doesn't hide the interest in his eyes when Bruce mentions the truth about Dick's question, or the offer for something stronger than the water beside the bed. Getting up himself, he moves beside the drink cart and gets a glass so that Bruce can pour a second glass. ]
A skylight. Now that can hurt, even with any sort of slow fall technique enabled. Is that what broke the arm? You hit and roll?
[Usually when falling, it would be normal to hit and roll, distributing the pattern of impact from legs to the entire left side of the body. If the arm/shoulder didn't catch right, or from that height, he certainly could have dislocated things and bruised up quite a bit-- not to mention the entire act of taking out a skylight was never gentle on a human body.]
You might remember that those things are glass next time.
[he says with half a smile as he raises his glass to knock against Bruce's before taking a sip.]
( it's fine. he's had worse. haven't they all at some point?
the look he gives the other man is one that's both slow and playfully annoyed before he's giving a huff and knocking back the rest of his drink, dick's own glass having been taken care of and all. quiet. a moment with his thoughts. licking over his lips then, he sets the glass down and looks over to the man there. eyeing him. )
I didn't mean to worry you.
( the words come out soft. slow. genuine. because he has the feeling telling dick earlier what had happened regarding bedrest might have concerned his curiosity some, what with having an idea of how difficult it is to get him to stay put and thus, what could have happened to have him in such a state. )
[Worse. Yes, but that was before they knew one another, before all this. It makes a difference somehow. Maybe Dick didn't think it would, but it does. He's gotten better at telling himself not to try and worry so much, that he'll only screw it up like he always does but this time around he's trying to do it different, because everything about this is completely different.
They tread in a unique pattern that's all their own, and will be this way for some time to come, Dick assumes.
Still, there's a sigh. A heartbeat or two where Dick needs to take back his drink and forget that he really was genuinely worried. It's good to see that Bruce is up, and that it's a lot of Alfred that's keeping him confined. There's healing that needs to happen, but he doesn't have to be completely in a bed to do it.
Looking across the way, he nods his head and takes a step closer. Dick lifts his hand and runs it down Bruce's cheek, and then lets it rest on his chin for a beat before letting go.]
I know. I know you didn't. I didn't mean to actually worry, either. These things happen.
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Dick doesn't hide the interest in his eyes when Bruce mentions the truth about Dick's question, or the offer for something stronger than the water beside the bed. Getting up himself, he moves beside the drink cart and gets a glass so that Bruce can pour a second glass. ]
A skylight. Now that can hurt, even with any sort of slow fall technique enabled. Is that what broke the arm? You hit and roll?
[Usually when falling, it would be normal to hit and roll, distributing the pattern of impact from legs to the entire left side of the body. If the arm/shoulder didn't catch right, or from that height, he certainly could have dislocated things and bruised up quite a bit-- not to mention the entire act of taking out a skylight was never gentle on a human body.]
You might remember that those things are glass next time.
[he says with half a smile as he raises his glass to knock against Bruce's before taking a sip.]
no subject
the look he gives the other man is one that's both slow and playfully annoyed before he's giving a huff and knocking back the rest of his drink, dick's own glass having been taken care of and all. quiet. a moment with his thoughts. licking over his lips then, he sets the glass down and looks over to the man there. eyeing him. )
I didn't mean to worry you.
( the words come out soft. slow. genuine. because he has the feeling telling dick earlier what had happened regarding bedrest might have concerned his curiosity some, what with having an idea of how difficult it is to get him to stay put and thus, what could have happened to have him in such a state. )
no subject
They tread in a unique pattern that's all their own, and will be this way for some time to come, Dick assumes.
Still, there's a sigh. A heartbeat or two where Dick needs to take back his drink and forget that he really was genuinely worried. It's good to see that Bruce is up, and that it's a lot of Alfred that's keeping him confined. There's healing that needs to happen, but he doesn't have to be completely in a bed to do it.
Looking across the way, he nods his head and takes a step closer. Dick lifts his hand and runs it down Bruce's cheek, and then lets it rest on his chin for a beat before letting go.]
I know. I know you didn't. I didn't mean to actually worry, either. These things happen.