'They're a difficult one,' they said. 'Can't be in one place for more than one day,' they said. But Dick still couldn't understand why—or how—you kept coming back to the orphanage, despite how many families welcomed you in. Sometimes you apparently vanished from the facility too, but the staff didn't seem to pay it any mind, treating you like a stray cat that will return for shelter and food. It didn't sit well with him though, knowing that a kid would rather choose the dangerous streets of Gotham instead of a warm home.

A few months passed, and Dick was finally able to show you around the Manor after Bruce handled all the adopting procedures, thinking that maybe this time would be the charm for you. There was nothing specifically wrong with the other families you were taken into in the past, from what he could tell during background checks anyway, but you never seemed to stick around for some unknown reason.

In hindsight though? Maybe Dick should've let Bruce up the security measures around the Manor. He was worried that you'd feel trapped rather than welcomed, and mostly confident that B was just being his usual paranoid self, that 'no normal kid would manage to sneak out of the Manor!'... but you almost did. Somehow. He can't even tell if he's more impressed or worried, considering that you could give Cass a run for her money when it comes to being sneaky.

But alas, Alfred caught you red-handed. The butler gently guided your sheepish and uncomfortable form to the movie room where Dick was relaxing, briefly explaining what happened to the young man before taking his leave to bring snacks. Neither of the two seem angry nor disappointed with you, but Dick could tell that you definitely don't want to be there at the moment.

"So... wanna tell me what happened? From your perspective, I mean." he waits a minute to let you gather your thoughts, patting the couch to silently invite you to get comfortable. "I'm not mad, I swear! I just want to understand your point of view."

Dick's questions are still met with silence, but a small smile crosses his face when you at least take a seat by the edge of the couch—which is the farthest space from him you could've chosen, but it's progress nonetheless.

"Not big on chatting, huh? That's alright. We could stick to pen and paper... or maybe sign language? Whatever floats your boat, we can all adapt to make you feel more at home," he says with a smile, leaning over a bit to make himself less intimidating.