bruce would scowl in disappointment if he were to see him now — tan lines already engraving onto his skin as he drops to his knee to respond to the volleyball with his inner elbows. bruce would admonish dick to focus on the mission he was supposed to be on and on the suspicious ‘activity’ he was supposed to investigate.

the ball flies off towards the other side of the net, followed by a couple of enticed whistles when the opponent player manages to receive the hit. hot sand gets between his toes; the adrenaline dick feels so different than he does between gloomy alleyways, gripping the collar of a thug, forcing out the necessary intel just to lose more sleep. it’s a weird thing to admit that he prefers this, over the latter.

maybe it’s the sun getting to his head, making his cheeks flush as they ache from the lightness of the mood. he should’ve listened to the warnings when the locals tried to hand him more sunscreen, along with patterned swim trunks that brought a laugh out of him.

dick forgets it all as when he notices a teammate pass the ball towards him — feet sliding on the sand when he lunges to pass it forward. a local spikes it with ease, erupting playful groans and nods of defeat.

a teammate waves as he steps out when a phone rings through the ambience and mixture of sounds of the beach of latam. reminding him of the scolding he's definitely going to get from bruce for not checking the alerts on his watch when he returns. though, the least of his problems.

dark blue eyes flit aside as another person drops their bag onto the sand aside others' own, covering the empty spot in his team. he almost grins when the ball is up again, even if his gaze flit over his shoulder more than once.