"Who the hell are you?!"
"B. This is D." he said. "I need Batman. Arkham's going to be a hot bed tonight and I can't handle it alone. I need your help."
Famous last words, no doubt. Dick stood on top of the agreed upon building, his back against a brick wall as he lurked in silence. He really wasn't sure what to expect - Bruce had sounded perversely amused for some reason. Dick was hoping that didn't mean he was in for one of Bruce's ideas of a joke. Usually when they had gone so long without speaking, there was a lot more tension from the old man. Strangely, Bruce didn't send up that static this time.
Dick's body ached from flying the lines, but he all but didn't feel it. Instead, he tried to use the quiet downtime to rest a bit, to let his breath steady. Dick was still in the prime of his life, but it wasn't like when he was 18. 30 years on the jumplines was still hard on the body, even when you were Dick Grayson.
When was Batman going to show? Dick let his brain switch over to Nightwing mode, and he heaved out a sigh. This was all troubling for him, and in some ways it was comforting to hear that graveled voice through the comm link again. Dick missed the old asshole, even if he was a cock and was insensitive and generally made Dick always feel like he was 8 again.
Nightwing was patient. He could wait.
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