Gotham isn't home anymore. He's reminded why it can't be every time he visits the manor. As much as he loves spending time with Barbara and Alfred, he can't stay in the city for long. He's not the same eighteen-year-old who left as soon as his wardship ended, but his relationship with @alleyslaughtered hasn't grown any stronger since then.
It doesn't mean he's going out of his way to avoid the man. He won't beat around the bush if he sees Bruce or needs to talk to him.
He definitely needs to talk to him about this.
His former guardian has been acting weird around the kids, especially Ethan. He wants to know why, and he's not going to accept Bruce's attempts at avoiding the subject this time.
Dick walks past the grandfather watch, down the stairs (or bat-stairs if he was still eight), and into the cave. Bruce is going through his bat getup, and pretending to pay him no attention. He's spent too many years around him not to see the microexpressions as he walks closer.
He remembers being in the cave, smaller, playing with his own cape, as he told The Batman that he was becoming predictable.
Bruce is granted ten seconds to be the first to give in and say something before Dick beats him to the punch. "You may like to pretend, but I donโt. Something is wrong and youโre hiding it from me."
Anyone else might not have noticed the way his jaw tenses. Anyone other than the former Robin. He'd been trained in the circus to be observant. Both by Clay, Haly's Circus's old strongman, through their people watching whenever things dialed down, and his dad. Being inattentive got you killed when you performed. What was life if not a constant performance?
Dick scoffs under his breath. Just loud enough for them both to hear. Bruce is doing that thing again where he pretends he's all alone in the world. As if he's the only person on the fucking planet who's borne the weight of being a vigilante. Like Dick hasn't been doing it since he was nine.
"Right. Protocols. Of course there are."
His boots scrape against the stone floor as he steps closer, the echo of his movement sharper now, like a blade being drawn. His silhouette catches the edge of the workstation's light, shadows painting hard lines across his face. There's no mask, but there's armor in his posture, in the way his jaw sets.
He knows about Ethan, knows that he's Eldritch, and that it grants him a devastating amount of powers. He also knows about Bruce's need for control and preparation. Those two are a match made in hell.
"I get why you have your contingency plans, Bruce, I do," he has made his own over the years. He's not naive. He's built his own failsafes, learned those habits from his former mentor himself. "Every time one of us gets mind-controlled or possessed or... whatever the hell this city decides to throw at us, I understand the need for insurance, but there's a difference between preparing for worst-case scenarios and assuming people's going to turn dark." His voice drops, losing its edge, but not its weight.
"You crossed that line a long time ago, and we all let it slide because- because it's you, but this is different. Ethan's a kid, Bruce. A good one who wouldn't hurt anyone without a reason."
Dick can't find it in him to care what Bruce thinks, but he knows Bruce, he knows that he's like a dog with a bone, and if he doesn't sway him, he won't stop.
"This isn't your call," his tone is even firmer now. It leaves no room for protests. "He's under my care. Not yours. I know how to handle him. What I need- what he needs right now is for you to back off. I'm done asking."