Practice Chat

Damian
I glance back again as I open the door, giving an incredulous look. "Lunch, stupid," I tell him, giving a sneer. Although it didn't feel like being back to normal. Just the usual insult and the disrespecting name calling, as usual, but...

Agh, he screwed everything over with that little tirade of his! All because of Cheshire... Fucking Cheshire...

I continue down the hall of a tunnel carved out of solid rock, overhead lights brightening the place. "You are not to stray from the room I occupy and you are not to ask questions as to where this place is or what its function may be," I start, pausing a little to sort out where to go at a particular branch off. "...Do you even remember what I told you were the necessary psychological needs?" My voice stays flat and sharp, cutting the space between us and any ties he might have wanted to form with me like my own katana. Friend. I didn't need a friend... Ridiculous. Fucking pointless.

Will

Gotham? Was that where we were headed? And what does he take me as? A two year old in some museum or antique shop? Don't touch this, don't touch that. I could control myself, don't under estimate me, Robin.

"For a fight? Yes." I answer flatly, I payed attention. "You need motivation to win but you have to keep a clear head, anger distracts you."

I give a slight smug smirk, following him as we walk through the tunnel.

Damian
"Otherwise your heart isn't in the fight. You wont win." I nod, the hallway opening up to the kitchen, also just a room carved from stone. It was modern, all white and stainless steel, but to me it always felt like a hospital ward: too clean, too white, and not a hint of personality. There were bar stools at the counter for a breakfast bar, as well as a separate table against the wall. It was open to the 'living room', with a television and large sectional couch.

I go to the fridge, pulling out a frozen pizza to stick in the oven, glancing up at Will before gesturing to the stools silently.

Will

HA! No smart comments this time!

I glance around, looking at everything curiously. The room was stone which reminded me of parts of the headquarters. Some of the hallways had that same clean feeling, white and plain.

I took a seat on one of the stools. I was normally one who did the cooking at home. "You can't cook, can you?" I smirk, a slightly amused tone in my voice.

Damian
I scowl at him. "Do I need to say this again? I'm ten, what the hell do you take me for?" I unwrap the thing, toss it in and turn on the oven to the correct temperature. "My mother made sure my teachers taught me how to read directions, and I know how to use an oven. I'm not helpless." Seriously, he needed some sort of hearing aid... Maybe the authors didn't heal him from my ear blow. I glare at him across the counter.

Will

"So?" I ask him, resting my head on my hand. "I learned when I was five, after my mother died. Father was never around much and my older brother, Demetrius, burned everything...even water. I got tired of eating sandwiches and taught myself to cook, I could read pretty well and Demetrius helped me with anything I couldn't do or reach."

Damian
Fan-fucking-tastic. It's the next Emeril master chef... "I really couldn't care less..." I state bluntly, staring at him. Resting my elbow on the counter, I put my chin on my hand.

Will

I roll my eyes and sit up straight, glancing around again and trying to figure out where we are. Didn't Batman have some kind of cave...? That would explain the stone walls...

"Was the tunnel system your father's or owned by gotham?" I ask.

Damian
"Don't your comics portray it well enough?" I reply, looking away. I wasn't telling.

Will

"I'll take that as a yes your father owns it, I don't read the comics. But a few people in GH's brain do...and she does as well." I glance around again the room again. "This is a cave isn't it?"

Damian
"Sort of," I answer in an off handedly simple way. Why the hell did it even matter?

"So what's your motivation?" I ask him, getting back on topic.

Will

He's avoiding the topic, but I'll give him an answer.

"I guess it depends on the time, the place, and the reason....right now its the cause I suppose...and living....but I'm not sure...I like that reason..." my voice drops into a mumble towards the end, I don't need him pointing out my faults or lecturing me. I don't like admiting them either, and from what I can tell...neither does he.

Damian
"Then that's not your motivation. Nothing's making you fight for it to succeed," I tell him, going in the fridge again for a Gatorade for myself. "Pick something else."

Will

"...Like what?" I ask him, frowning slightly. "What else do I have? What's your motivation anyway?"

Damian
"Something I'd defend with my life. That which my heart is into fully," I murmur, feeling weird talking about this to Will of all people. Why was the focus always on me? Dunce asked too many questions...

Will

"So.....I should find something like that....?" I ask, looking at him. "....I think it's good that you have something like that..."

Damian
"It doesn't have to be complicated," I go on, ignoring the comment. "The most basic is simply survival, which is primary in the fight or flight reaction. The more personal is better, however. Something only you have that no one should take away..." I click off the oven, opening the door to let the heat out

Will

My mind flickers briefly to Liz, she can be a pain...but she's different. And I have to kill her.

She's taught me things as well as a few other characters.

She has nice eyes-

Enough. I have to kill her.....Father wants me to...but...how can I do that?

"What's your something then?"

Damian
As I allow the heat out, I unfasten my cloak and throw it over on the couch, taking off my mask and gloves as well for now. "To prove...who I am..." I say quietly, walking back and grabbing a dish towel to take the pan out of the oven and on top of the stove. I don't look at Will at all, but take a knife out of the drawer and cut the freezer food in half.

Will

I knew what that was like...to prove you were more than people saw you as, to beat yourself over being the best you can possibly be so they respect you, care for you, love you...

It was weird....seeing him without the mask.

"....I know what that's like..."

Damian
I walk around, leaving a chair between us when I sit down silently put the pizza between us with the knife. "You know what it's /like/..." I say slowly. "You do not know the situation." Do not try to make bonds where you don't know what you're trying to attach to.

Will

"No....I don't know the situation....you're right." I don't look at him as I cut a slice off. "......Who are you then? You're more than some smart mouthed ten year old brat. Who is Damian Wayne then?" I ask, looking at him finally.

Damian
I cut my own slice, taking a bite despite the heat. I feel the roof of my mouth protest, but it doesn't bother me. I make it not bother me. Pain tolerance was the first thing the League taught. "Why do you care? You acted like you hated me until now. Why the hell does making friends suddenly top your twisted list of priorities?" I grumble, keeping my eyes fixed ahead.

Will

"I don't hate you," I mutter, "And half the time you act the same way...I'm not twisted....just confused...."

Damian
"Go read back a few pages. You didn't like me," I state bluntly. "I /can/ be civil. You just normally annoy the fuck out of me." I take another bite. "This isn't improving anything."