[ Alright, so Gotham gets pretty cold. Blüdhaven is about the same, temperature-wise, seeing as it's right across the harbor. Both of those places? Do not even compare to how frigid it is in this place. And see, while Dick Grayson is accustomed to cold weather, he is not accustomed to weathering it (ha, puns, he's not too cold for those) without an insulated suit or about seven layers of jackets. Wet jeans and a thin hoodie do not a warm Dick make.
This is why it's a problem for him to be stuck outside. He'd meant to just go grab more firewood, but one thing led to another and now he's huddled up against a wall outside, thankfully mostly blocked from the wind. Most of his musing revolves around survival at the moment, but there's a stray thought here and there about Bruce and the fact that he'd probably have some stupid meditation technique that'd keep him alive through the night.
Silence isn't exactly something that gets to him, but... he might die, tonight, or at least start down that path. He keeps himself balled up, resting his tablet on his knees, and turns on a video message with a hum. He's used the function a few times already, so he thinks at least one or two people should know him as Robbie Malone. Yes, his screen name is holymalone and yes, he knows it doesn't technically rhyme unless you say it wrong but he thinks it's funny. ]
Nice weather we're having, huh? [ Great, what a great conversation starter, Dick. ]
( three )
[ Bet you weren't expecting to run face first into a 5'10 muscular hunk of a man, were you? Not that he'd ever be so boastful about it, but he is pretty thick and he has great balance. The greatest balance in the world isn't going to stop him from dropping the stacked firewood in his arms all over the floor, unfortunately, and in the ringing silence after each log clatters on the wood floor of the house, Dick looks up at the person he's just run into. ]
Well, this is awkward. [ A beat. ] This isn't your wood, is it?
Dick Grayson | DC Comics
[ Alright, so Gotham gets pretty cold. Blüdhaven is about the same, temperature-wise, seeing as it's right across the harbor. Both of those places? Do not even compare to how frigid it is in this place. And see, while Dick Grayson is accustomed to cold weather, he is not accustomed to weathering it (ha, puns, he's not too cold for those) without an insulated suit or about seven layers of jackets. Wet jeans and a thin hoodie do not a warm Dick make.
This is why it's a problem for him to be stuck outside. He'd meant to just go grab more firewood, but one thing led to another and now he's huddled up against a wall outside, thankfully mostly blocked from the wind. Most of his musing revolves around survival at the moment, but there's a stray thought here and there about Bruce and the fact that he'd probably have some stupid meditation technique that'd keep him alive through the night.
Silence isn't exactly something that gets to him, but... he might die, tonight, or at least start down that path. He keeps himself balled up, resting his tablet on his knees, and turns on a video message with a hum. He's used the function a few times already, so he thinks at least one or two people should know him as Robbie Malone. Yes, his screen name is holymalone and yes, he knows it doesn't technically rhyme unless you say it wrong but he thinks it's funny. ]
Nice weather we're having, huh? [ Great, what a great conversation starter, Dick. ]
( three )
[ Bet you weren't expecting to run face first into a 5'10 muscular hunk of a man, were you? Not that he'd ever be so boastful about it, but he is pretty thick and he has great balance. The greatest balance in the world isn't going to stop him from dropping the stacked firewood in his arms all over the floor, unfortunately, and in the ringing silence after each log clatters on the wood floor of the house, Dick looks up at the person he's just run into. ]
Well, this is awkward. [ A beat. ] This isn't your wood, is it?