Log: Dick and Damian
As Dick Grayson wandered into the police station, cane in hand and attempting to look limpy he kept his head down and his jacket collar up. There was press everywhere, asking him all kinds of questions - 'no comment' he wondered if this was exactly how Bruce had felt back home when he'd had to do this. Twice. It wasn't a great feeling, he was worried about Damian, upset that he'd gotten caught, and even more annoyed that the press was going to be all over this like white on rice.
He paid the bail money from his own pocket, he tried to be cooperative despite his annoyance with the police officers in general. And he waited for them to bring Damian out. They nodded at each other when they made eye contact and no words were exchanged on the way out other than 'don't say a word once we get outside,' said in a firm tone before they walked out into the sea of vultures with their bright flashing cameras and offensive questions.
The car ride was equally as silent. Dick's hands on the wheel firmly eyes straight ahead and driving the speed limit (which he hated - but getting pulled over now would do no one any good). The cane was left in the backseat as he parked at Wayne Manor and he was back to walking properly and upright as they made their way across the grounds. "The 9th looks like they've made some upgrades since I was there in your shoes. But really, the real quality? It's the 12th. We can try for that one next time." It wasn't a tease, it wasn't a smart assed comment. It was just fact. He'd been there, he'd done this, he'd bought the tee shirt, he understood. And while he was upset, and disappointed, and frustrated, he just wanted Damian to know it wasn't the end of the world.