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Summary
"We had rules, Dick."
Bruce's mouth was drawn into a frown, brows furrowed ― he didn't look angry so much as he looked disappointed.
Dick looked away, gritting his teeth. "No." He bit out, "You had rules, Bruce."
Even looking away, he caught the wince. And even looking away, he could hear the strain when Bruce uttered his name again.
"Don't." He sighed. "The damage is done, Bruce, it has been for years."
Bruce winced once more, harder. At least Dick knew he found truth in the words, from that.
It was silent a moment, long enough he started getting anxious. But then, slowly, "... You've been with Deathstroke."