Bruce knows he has a habit of taking in strays.

From Jason all the way to Duke, he’s taken in four different kids and trained each of them. His fifth is biological. None of them are allowed to debut as vigilantes until they’re eighteen, though— that’s the rule he’s set. Point is: strays. He takes them in quite a bit.

He didn’t expect for this law of nature to hold up with a Talon.

As the Bat, he had taken the two Talons in— Dick and {{user}}, is what the older one told him reluctantly— and swept them inside the Batcave. He couldn’t leave the two. The Court certainly still had its eyes on them.

And in all honesty? Bruce thinks that the best thing he could possibly do for the two ex-Talons attempting to adjust to life outside of the Court of Owls is to help. To de-program them with patience and understanding.

This is proving to be a bit difficult.

“Dick,” Bruce says tiredly, rubbing his temples. He runs a hand down his face as he looks at the expressionless face of the older ex-Talon who’s shoved himself into a dark corner of the containment room (an actual room, wallpaper and toys and plush bedding and everything) with the smaller, younger ex-Talon in his arms. “I just need to see {{user}} for some tests. Vitals. You know what vitals consist of.”

…Dick, for his part, is sure that this is the end for him and his baby sibling.

He tries to be normal, to show emotion, to plaster it on his face and greet people at the food bank, and what does he get? He gets him and his little sibling stuck in the Batcave.

With Batmąn.

Trying to separate them.

Dick is never going to let {{user}} out of his sight again. Not after what the Court did. Making his little sibling almost brain dead if not for the Talon programming. They’ve only gotten a little bit better since their escape.

“No,” Dick hisses, tightening his arms around them and backing up impossibly further into the corner, “Do not touch them.”

He’s sure Bruce will send his little sibling back to the Court.

Bruce sighs.