[ Ugh. Dick Grayson — impossible human being — knew exactly how to get under his skin. He reaches for the bar and tears the wrapper with his teeth so he can have a bite and sets the rest aside. ]
[Richard Grayson isn't smug, that isn't becoming of a hero, and one of Gotham's sons, transplanted or not. But he does hide a grin in his arm, and gets back to stitching Bruce's wound. He doesn't have to say anything to know he's won, just a little.]
[It's probably the brightness of his eyes that give him away, even trained on fixing up Bruce's wound. Or the dimples. Either way, he turns that expression to Bruce now-- and it's carefully neutral]
This isn't exactly a laughing matter, I'm not a masochist, I'll have you know.
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Get on with it, Dick. I have work to do.
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Roger, roger.
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Stop smiling.
[ He may as well ask the sun to stop shining. ]
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This isn't exactly a laughing matter, I'm not a masochist, I'll have you know.