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Tersely: "I'm not hungry."

The terseness isn't directed at Kyle; it's a result of him trying to keep a lid on his anger.

'Dick.'

It's gentle, and firm. 'Eat something with me?'

He nearly snaps and replies sharply. But he reigns it in. It wouldn't exactly be the best way to start a conversation.

"Alright."

He doesn't want to eat, but he'll at least try to pick at his food.

Kyle gestures to the table, and takes out another plate. He leaves it empty, so Dick can take his own food, if he wants, but he does put down a full glass of water.

Then, he clasps his hands next to his own plate, and leans forward slightly.

'So.'

Talk to me. What happened?

He sits down, stiffly upright in his chair. It takes a few seconds for him to gather himself.

"So. Apparently I just don't understand what it's like to be superhuman and I should just calm down because, hey, what do I know anyway."

He's so furious. It's written in every line of his body.

There's more than just that - Dick's been struck at the core like people only are when somebody close to them has been dragged into the conflict.

Kyle nods, keeping his own body language, open, and calm, to balance it out. 'I hear you,' he says, softly. Go on.

Edited (ICON) 2013-07-20 02:59 (UTC)

"And then Wally said that my 'paranoia'--"

He hated when people said that. It's like they couldn't differentiate between caution and paranoia. His expression darkens and he takes a deep breath before continuing. This part stung a lot more than he let on.

"-- that it was all because of Bruce. Because I can't have opinions of my own, right? I'm just his little automaton."

Maybe he'd have agreed that sometimes Bruce went extremely overboard with the paranoia, but the underlying principle wasn't wrong. He'd defended him over that crap with Ra's and turning the world's languages unintelligible, after all. And Kyle being Kyle, having spent so much time with Dick, could detect the note of hurt and defensiveness that was under the anger.

He puts it into words. 'He should know better.'

"Apparently he doesn't."

His fists clench.

"I'm tired of being treated like-- like I'm some crazy conspiracy theorist. I'm cautious. And they should know why."

Things are never quite simple for him. One misstep, one miscalculation, one contingency left unplanned-for. Someone might die. He doesn't have powers to fall back on.

He knows this very, very well.

'Yes, they should.'

I understand.

Then, he adds gently, 'Do you want me to talk to him?' He means Wally, he can get through to a friend. Superman, on the other hand, he's not going there. He knows he'd start yelling.

I know.

Dick shakes his head.

"You can try, but I don't think it'll work. He gets defensive."

As much as he liked Wally, Dick knew his flaws very well. Sometimes arguing with Wally was like yelling at a brick wall.

'Where there's a will, right,' he remarks, wryly. They'd been at odds enough for Kyle to be fully aware just how blockheaded Wally could be sometimes. It was... good, maybe, that it hadn't changed.

He picks at his food, suddenly feeling a bit restless. Commiseration was all well and good when people just didn't get it, but it had a tendency to become an echo chamber, which made things claustrophobic, sometimes.

'I have an idea. Have you got half an hour?'

Edited 2013-07-26 01:55 (UTC)

"Yeah."

He has no idea what Kyle's up to, but, honestly, actually doing something other than talking (or shouting, depending on the person) might help shake him out of whatever this is. Or at least distract him a little.

'C'mon, follow me.'

He stretches and walks to the door. Outside, the air is surprisingly cool, for summer, and there's a gentle breeze. He rings up a hovercar for two, and slides in to the passenger seat. Dick can drive, well, metaphorically speaking. Kyle's the one keeping it in the air and solid.

He points in the direction of Wood Sector. 'That way. There's more space.'

The hovercar is nowhere near as complicated as a Martian bioship, so he has no trouble flying it. He's going fast but neatly dodging everything. No big deal.

"There's no point in asking what this is about, is there?"

'That would ruin the surprise.'

He points to a large clearing, so they can land. Once they do, the hovercar vanishes, and Kyle stretches. Having no powers was all right, well, it wasn't awful, but he missed it in a way he can't name or explain properly.

Then, he holds out his arm, and concentrates. The outlines form first, hard and slow, streaking through the night air. The rest fills like water in a bucket, the glow bright but not blinding, pulsing slightly.

He's an artist and a Lantern: his visual memory is excellent. Usually it's a curse, he remembers all the horrors he's seen in excruciating detail, but sometimes, it can be a blessing.

Because despite only having seen a few old newsprints, Haley's Circus is standing in front of them, life size, and perfectly accurate. A small flick of his wrist, and it changes from green to colour. This is harder to maintain, but he has the will. And the ring to back it up, too.

Once he's done, he just looks down at Dick, and smiles.

Dick watches the lightshow wordlessly. He would've been perfectly entranced if it had been a simple display, but when the arcs of light start forming familiar shapes, he feels a sort of ache in his heart.

Haly's. His first home.

He doesn't ask how Kyle knows what it looks like-- it'd been all over the papers after all. Without even realizing it, Dick's grinning widely and there's a sort of softness to his eyes. Memories-- good ones-- flood back to him.

He looks up at Kyle. Thank you.

The silence is far more telling than anything Dick could say. Kyle's not sure how much of it will ache, or how much will feel good. The wound is still raw, for the younger one.

The grin sets him at ease. This is working.

He tilts his head towards the entrance. You haven't even seen the inside yet.

Dick walks toward the entrance, touching the constructs as he passes by. It's like he's saying hello, as weird as it sounds. He knows he could go back to Haly's any time back home, even for a little while. It's the leaving again that would be hard.

If he concentrates, he can conjure up the smells-- of hay, of animals, of freshly-cleaned costumes, of makeup. He wishes he could share them with Kyle.

Kyle follows, his steps careful, almost reverent. This memory isn't his, even if it was his to give, and the proverbial door has to be opened before he has the right to look inside, let alone enter.

He smiles to himself, in a strange, genuine way that he hasn't done often (but more, since coming to Keeliai, where he can rest, and get to the roots of why he does what he does) as he watches.

The interior is a masterpiece, if he says so himself (but he won't). He had no reference for what it looked like beyond a general circus, so he let his imagination run wild. The trapeze, however, is all there, accurate, and ready.

Dick's grin widens even more when he sees the interior. He lets out something between a sigh and a gasp.

"This is amazing."

It wasn't exact, but it was amazing nonetheless. His eyes drift to the trapeze and he gets a warm feeling in his chest. All of the feelings come rushing back. There's no big audience, just Kyle. But it doesn't matter.

"You've never seen me perform, have you?"

Outside of combat, at least.

Kyle doesn't count combat as performance, but there's something else he does.

'Some old footage, yeah. Couldn't get a good look at what those are supposed to look like, exactly, but they work fine.' He points to the trapeze, the warm feeling at giving someone else joy - especially Dick - is filling, and making him feel better too.

'I'm betting it's nothing compared to up close and personal, huh?'

"Definitely not."

He's practically glowing as he dashes to the ladder. Once on the platform, he gives a performer's bow while grinning.

He stands at the edge of the platform, grabs the trap, and jumps. Everything came back to him, as natural as breathing. Old maneuvers, tricks he'd seen and had never had the opportunity to try out, moves he's making up on the fly. It all looks natural, and his confidence shines.

Once finished (he figured Kyle wouldn't want to be there forever), he stands on the platform with his arms raised and bows again to the audience of one.

Kyle could sit here forever, if he wanted to (ha, willpower). He cheers and whoops like a good one-man audience. Dick's movements are so fluid, and natural, he can't help but be awed by the kid's charm and grace.

'Bravo!' he yells, clapping enthusiastically when the performance is over. Then, an entire wall of construct Green Lanterns appear next to him, of all species and sizes, joining him and filling the stands. The applause is deafening.

Dick grins wider as the audience fills out with constructs of the Lantern Corps. Obviously, he doesn't recognize them, but he knows they must be real in Kyle's world.

He bows again. His face hurts from smiling so much, but he can't stop.

He climbs down and walks back over to Kyle, still glowing.

"Not bad for being out of practice, right?"

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