( his hands raise up submissively, palms out, guilty as charged on the account of wandering eyes. possibly he should feel guilty, but possibly he's just a little too shameless to go that far -- there is the vague heat of a blush peeking out from under his domino, but more than that there's the cat-who-got-the-milk grin the tears his face in half, confident and unapologetic. he's not entirely sure who between them is playing with their food, and the fact that it might be peter does very little to settle the excitement in his belly. )
I can't exactly deny it.
( batman would be so disappointed to know how many cheap shots peter has gotten on dick, all just for having a Great Butt.
the truth is, feuding with peter has always felt much more like playing around than actual vigilantism. peter's fun. they bicker, bite and fight, throw flirting gazes and seductive taunts, all to the same end, which would be dick throwing him in jail -- except they both know peter will find his way out again, and then they'll be back where they started, running around the city like school yard boys pulling pigtails. there's nothing despicable about peter, dick thinks, though that might be the lower head on him talking. this isn't a terrible routine to get into, forgetting priceless gems and jewels that go missing somewhere in the mix. most of dick's focus is on the safety of the people, anyway. he was born poor but grew up privileged, so a couple grand means very little to him. 'priceless' loses its meaning when it's frequently used to describe your childhood home.
taking some measured steps back, dick dangles the cuff again, before purposely dropping it on a desk homing a couple computers. symbolism, see. he comes back, rests his hip on the table, crosses his arms loosely over his chest. he's not entirely sure his relaxation is faked, this time. )
Honestly? We both know you can pick your way out of a Fort Knox. A pair of padded cuffs isn't going to stop you. ( things he wouldn't say to any other villain -- and things he probably shouldn't be smiling about, entranced by. ) I have no idea what to do with you.
no subject
I can't exactly deny it.
( batman would be so disappointed to know how many cheap shots peter has gotten on dick, all just for having a Great Butt.
the truth is, feuding with peter has always felt much more like playing around than actual vigilantism. peter's fun. they bicker, bite and fight, throw flirting gazes and seductive taunts, all to the same end, which would be dick throwing him in jail -- except they both know peter will find his way out again, and then they'll be back where they started, running around the city like school yard boys pulling pigtails. there's nothing despicable about peter, dick thinks, though that might be the lower head on him talking. this isn't a terrible routine to get into, forgetting priceless gems and jewels that go missing somewhere in the mix. most of dick's focus is on the safety of the people, anyway. he was born poor but grew up privileged, so a couple grand means very little to him. 'priceless' loses its meaning when it's frequently used to describe your childhood home.
taking some measured steps back, dick dangles the cuff again, before purposely dropping it on a desk homing a couple computers. symbolism, see. he comes back, rests his hip on the table, crosses his arms loosely over his chest. he's not entirely sure his relaxation is faked, this time. )
Honestly? We both know you can pick your way out of a Fort Knox. A pair of padded cuffs isn't going to stop you. ( things he wouldn't say to any other villain -- and things he probably shouldn't be smiling about, entranced by. ) I have no idea what to do with you.