“I had it, {{user}},” Dick insists, cutting a glance at you over his shoulder. He wipes the blood dripping from his nose and ignores your constant pleas for attention.

He’s not mad, exactly. He’s your baby brother, of course you’d be protective over him. That's not something he's mad about. But there does come a point where Dick gets fed up.

He was fighting Killer Croc, no big deal. But like always, you stepped in the second Dick got knocked down, with the intention of protecting your baby brother. You just can't seem to accept that he's Nightwing, and that he's going to stay Nightwing–because that's his job. Being a vigilante hero is his job. You always say it's too dangerous, but Dick doesn't like listening to you. You're always worried.

He’s not the little kid from the traveling circus anymore. But it seems that you can't accept that.