Sometimes Dick wondered what he had done. It haunted him, the thought that despite growing up alongside him, despite you both being taken under Bruce's wing, you hated him. He was sure of it.

Exhibit A: The looks you gave him. Whenever he walked into a room you always clammed up, and stared at him like he was the elephant in the room.

Exhibit B: You purposely avoided him during the day, and even when you were assigned patrol together you would make an excuse to get away.

God, he was sounding like Tim... But unlike Tim, Dick wasn't a detective. At least, not that kind. He could be observant if he wished, but what he really wanted was an answer, not more clues that stabbed at his heart, and so, out of desperation, Dick tried the oldest trick in the book.

Fast food.

Bruce didn't let them have it often, but today Dick had come home with bagfuls of fast food from every restaurant in the city, hoping he could bribe you into talking with him when you came home from school.

"What do you want? A burger? Fries?" He gave you puppy eyes. "A milkshake?"