Practice Chat

Chelsea
Didn't I answer that? Does everyone really need some fancy title or relation to pass around and brag about? Damian should truly fit in then! "...A training buddy...?" I answer, although unsure. I dunno...I guess so?

Demetrius

"Will mentioned something about having a teacher...? Would that be you?" I ask, going up one more step so that I'm on the landing.

Chelsea
Nope, it's a ten year old. I'm sure that will go over extremely well. "If he asks nicely," I answer, maybe just to feel a little bit cryptic. I like mysteriousness, hiding my thoughts and feelings behind a playful exterior. People underestimate me that way, as if my size didn't already feed into that belief. And now the stairs are free, so I start down, feeling a prick of tension with my back semi exposed and my mark visible. Didn't want to talk about that reminder...

Demetrius

I watch her pass, staring at the tattoo on her back. I blink and head up to my room to get changed.

Will

The spagetti's cooking and I'm almost done with the sauce by now, I finish chopping the tomatoes and dump them in the pot.

Chelsea
Yeah, a ten year old brought to life from the comic books that were normal in this place... Gonna go over real great.
I go back into the kitchen, silently claiming a chair to sit at as I stare at Will's movements. Alfred was renown for kindly kitchen sessions for relaxation or bonding time with Spades and I, so I knew the basics. Could offer help, but it didn't seem like he needed it.

Will

"Hey," I say briefly, distracted by my work. I needed to finish, get everything perfect and in time before he came home.

Chelsea
I give a slight nod in greeting, but don't say anything. Not much of a reason for conversation, and he was busy with everything. Wasn't going to interrupt him...
However... "Don't tell me you think you're going to building any strength with carbs and more sugar. What is wrong with the American nutritional beliefs?" Brat Boy snaps as he walks in, arms crossed as usual.

Will

"It's something everyone eats, something simple and easy and I'm afraid I don't have that much time. I'm making salad as well, so chill," I snap slightly, frowning at him. I don't have the energy or the time to play games today...

The front door opens and I look up, surprised to see Father come into the kitchen. We normally use the basement entrance, he must've come from the one in the woods to look less suspicious? He did come from work, but most people don't have a hidden door in their basement.

I swallow hard, "Hello, Father."

Chelsea
I can't see down the hallway, but his next words from telling Damian off pricks my interest. Damian, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, turns around to see the man. The man hides his psyche well, since I didn't sense him coming. Proximity would quickly make the vague ideas start coming, the fears to take shape.

"Cox, my father contacted you earlier. Our deal is set?" Damian asks, just standing in the center of the hallway like he owns the place. Didn't seem like even Will's father could instill some automatic respect into him...

So nothing interesting was happening on that side of the room, since it would only entail staring at Damian's back - which isn't anything abnormal. My red eyes flick back to Will to study his reaction, both physical and subconsciously. I had yet to make my presence known that I was sort of the tag along to that deal, but it didn't exactly matter to me...

Mr. Cox

"Hello, William." I say, giving a nod to my son, who is....staring at his shirt?

I don't intend to ask why.

I turn my attention to the small, ten year old child, who appears to think he's...in charge? Whatever. The lack of respect though is surprising.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne, I appreciate the fact that both you and your father contacted me. I hope you and Miss Gordon will be quite comfortable here."

Chelsea

Darn. I like being a surprise...

And Damian appeared smug as ever. Thinking it was about time someone gave his name the proper acknowledgement. It was the same when Alfred called him so until he realized that Alfred was a polite S.O.B. who just called everyone 'Master' or 'Miss', respectively.

Well, since I'm not a tack on and Will looks about ready to drown himself in tomato sauce if he leaned his head down anymore...I get up and cross the room, glimpsing by the corner of my eye to see this feared Mr. Cox... "Tell me where the plates are," I tell him, leaning on the counter next to the stove.

Mr. Cox

"I trust the flight here was not too troublesome?" I ask Damian, attempting conversation.

Will

I look up at Chelsea, darn didn't even have time to change. "Huh? Oh? Plates? They're right there," I say, gesturing to the cabinet before setting the pot on the stove. "I can get them though."

Chelsea

I give an eyeroll, murmuring over quietly so those occupied in the hallway don't hear. Since he was worried of his father finding out about the powers, for whatever reason. "Five people's gonna give me a headache already, I don't need your worry about dinner being perfect to add to it," I say dryly before going over to the cabinet Will pointed out to get five plates and bring them back to the table. As if my own worry at Damian saying something he shouldn't won't make this all pretty unbearable. So as I go off to the table, I'm giving a deathglare at the back of his head at he speaks with that man. Though momentarily my eyes flick up to see him. An extended second as I stare at him, and then the wall envelopes him once more before I set the dishes upon the table. I go back to get salad bowls as Damian comes in to free up the hallway finally, shrugging as he walks. "There wasn't a need, we -"

"Were in the area," I cut in, giving him a look when he gives me a glare. Very slightly, I make his anxiety spike while I get the five matching dishes. Don't fuck this up... And when I go back, his hands at his sides are fisted in hidden anger.

Will

"...Then I've got time to change," I say, moving quickly past her and up the stairs to go change.

Demetrius

I stop for a minute on the stairs on my way down, hearing Father's voice. I then stumble quickly down. "Hello, Father," I say, moving to help Chelsea set the table.

"Hello, Demetrius. Next time, walk more quietly. We are not a herd of elephants," I say, frowning at him. "Oh? May I ask why?" I add to Chelsea and Damian.

Damian

"Business," I murmur, leaning back against the counter. Got the idea, Fatgirl... Father and Grayson both have explained the concept of your secret identity game. Turrow doesn't react, keeping her infuriatingly blank face as she lays out the plates and sets the bowls in the center. At least you're doing a job fitting of your status. "So the gracelessness is apparently hereditary? I was wondering why Cox was such a clutz in spars..." Her face cracks very slightly, eyes closing in frustration as she lets out a slow sigh nearly disguised as merely breathing, and I smile to myself as I look back at Mr. Cox. Mess with my head, I can still make this unneeded job of yours hellish until you left, Turrow.

Mr. Cox

I frown futher, I'll have to talk to both my sons about that then. "No, just Demetrius unfortunately. He was always clumsy as a child..."

Chelsea

Thiswashorrible. Couldn't Nightwing have come instead? Somehow the two of them get along well, and maybe this thing wouldn't go to all hell. I was going to botch this up somehow, because that's just what I did when I shouldn't. And who knew what the loaded gun Damian might do. Murder something with the fucking fork...

There was the usual fear of father from Demetrius, easy to pick up on since it was familiar from Will. I glance over at him as he got things set with me, wondering if that was the reason behind his hidden judgement of the ten year old in the room acting like supreme high commander of existence.

Demetrius

I glance at the ten year old, who seems to assume he's king of the world or something...? I'm not used to someone talking to Father like that, normally if it were one of us, I'm pretty sure that kid would've been back handed...but the look on Father's face, that's the schmoozing look. It's the look that he gives people who have something he wants or the 'I'm just going to ignore any bad comment you make because you have money, I'll rant about it later'.

That kid must be pretty loaded...

As for the usual, 'just Demetrius' comments...I'm used to it. I'm not Will, I'm not the golden boy, I'm not the favorite. I've never been, as far as I can remember. And Yes, It does hurt but it's become dulled over the years. I finish setting the last of the dishes out and move to the silver ware.

Will

After buttoning the buttons on my black dress shirt, I glance down at my pants to see if there's any lint on them. Nope, I'm good. I move to head down stairs, hearing Damian talking to my Father. I freeze, my eyes widening in fear, before I move more quickly down the stairs.

"Again, not a herd of elephants," Father says, his tone annoyed.

"S-sorry..," I say, glancing at Damian.

Chelsea
He was fine with setting the table himself, so I go ahead to make sure pasta wasn't becoming wallpaper paste and tomatoes weren't burning. Ugh, this wasn't - Might go back to New York for my methods of relaxation for the night. I liked the rooftops of skyscrapers compared to the rooftops of two story houses...

"I don't know about any Demetrius..." I catch his glance over at the other boy at the table. "As I said, it appears to be in the family." This is the part where you DON'T go insulting the host of the house, Brat Boy... Whatareyoudoing?

Will

I run to go help Chelsea get the food, thankful I remembered to turn off the burners before I headed up. I check to make sure everything is in order before getting out bowls and such to put meatballs and spagetti in. This was just FANTASTIC, Father coming home early, Damian insulting my family, could it get any worse?!

He doesn't react to the family insult, choosing to ignore it. "Demetrius is my eldest son," Father says, gesturing to Demetrius. "He's nineteen."

Chelsea

"And I've been attempting to figure out why, in your system, you apparently disregard hand-to-hand combat as unimportant in favor of guns or various nonsense," Damian goes on as he moves to the table, not paying any attention to Demetrius. I glance over, watching him push buttons and testing his power over the situation. And his father's absent care was horribly catalytic to his belief he had control of the place...

Will

I start to make my way to the table and my eyes grow wide at Damian's comment, a little gasp escapes my mouth.

There's the loud clattering of metal against wood, Demetrius dropped the silverware. His eyes wide with shock as he stares at Damian while his hands clumsily pick up the silverware.

Both of our eyes are on Father now. He seems a bit shocked too, but recovers quickly. His eyes flash briefly with anger but that vanishes once he's regained his composure.

"That would be Gh, thanks to your training with William and Black&White's assistance with Gh's writing skills that has changed. Things have taken a drastic change around here." He says, his tone still light.

Chelsea
Of course, when he wants to pay attention to details, nothing escapes his attention. He smiles to himself at the reaction, pleased that even if he were to anger someone he could get away with it. Which wasn't any good, so with a slight glare as I sit opposite from him at the table I have his anxiety spike in retribution. His lips purse immediately, composure going south.

"I know at least eight ways to kill you right now, Turrow. Don't test me!" he snaps at me, banishing a fork at me as the apparent weapon of choice. I keep my look steady, blank, though I mentally cursed up a storm at the kid for letting his anger get the better of him. And despite my frustration a little smirk of my own eeks out at him. He couldn't. He wouldn't try, even if it was me. He was too afraid of what it would do to his uneasy relationship with Batsy.

"I apologize for him; Damian isn't one for socialness, quite unpracticed on his manners. Are you particularly religious for grace and such?" I say lightly, glancing down the table to the head. I couldn't much care if Damian's outburst hinted to something more about me. I wasn't exactly normal looking... Across from me, Damian seethes at the insults but holds his tongue.

Will

We're already at death threats and we haven't even had dessert. Father blinks curiously at Damian at the fork, his lips smirking in amusement. He turns to Chelsea, "No, we're not but if it is customary to you, by all means let us say it." He makes no meantion of Damian's out burst, but chooses to ignore it all together.

Chelsea

There wasn't anything really special in religion for me. Some might expect differently because of coming back from the dead? I didn't owe anyone for that though... Things would've been simpler staying dead, and there wasn't any profound self discovery from it, and no revealed truth or white light bull. "Not at all," I say, returning to mind my own business.