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WHO: Friends and family of Andromeda Tonks.
WHERE: House (H)Tonksgood
WHEN: Tuesday, January 17th, 7pm (or roundabouts)
WARNINGS: I'll let you know!
SUMMARY: It is Andromeda's birthday. Tonks is going to throw her mother a party.
FORMAT: consonants and vowels.

[ It is her mother's birthday. In lieu of something extravagant for a gift, Tonks has opted to have a dinner instead. Her friends have been invited.

Being a thoughtful and considerate daughter, Tonks is not making her mother cook. She is taking care of the food and the desert! No, no. Don't panic. Tonks isn't cooking. Her fingers work! She hasn't lost her voice. It's pizza for dinner!

The dinning room table is covered with an assortment of different pizzas. There's thin crust. There's handtossed. There's a pizza with everything, there's a pizza with just cheese. There are some sides such as crisps and vegetables for dipping.

For desert, there's a chocolate cake sitting on a buffet. It's iced with a gooey, chocolate fudge frosting. There are loads of candles stuck in the top, too many to possibly represent Andromeda's real age but too few to set the place on fire. If chocolate cake doesn't appeal to you, there are vanilla cupcakes with yellow frosting. Plus, there's ice cream. Drinks are varied.

And because Tonks is such a considerate daughter, there will be no cleaning up! It's plastic utensils along with paper cups and plates for all! They're yellow. They match the yellow and orange birthday decorations that adorn the interior.

Come one. Come all. It's a pizza party. ]

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...No. I mean- It is an obligation. And it isn't.

[ Buck up soldier, Bruce would say.

Or really not, considering the circumstances. Which makes it yet another voice he needs to squash, for this part. She deserves to know. ]

...I lost my parents, when I was Damian’s age. They were murdered. The man who took me in... showed me that I could be proactive. That I didn’t have to wait for the future Dick Grayson’s of the world to suffer like I did. I could stop it. I could help.

All that bad, we could channel into something good. And we did. It is good.

[ He scrubs his hands over his face and takes a breath. It’s one thing to know the answer always, where it counts on the inside, but it’s another to have to put into words for someone else. He turns the gaze a little sideways when he risks looking at her, finally. ]

Is... anything I’m saying making sense?

[Are you prepared for the most sympathetic of faces, Dick? Her parents might not have been murdered, but they'd cut off all ties with her -- it wasn't so different, and not much less traumatizing.

She listens and tries to understand it. There's even more questions she has now -- whether he's been doing this since he was Damian's age, whether -- Damian might be involved, given Dick's pseudo-fatherly relationship with him -- but she can't ask those questions yet. It would put him in a compromising position, after all.

When he does look at her, she doesn't so much say anything as shift herself closer, pulling him in for a hug. It seems like the right thing to do.]

Oh, Dick.

I suppose ... it doesn't have to make perfect sense to me, does it? You believe in what you say. That's just -- a hard way to grow up, carrying that sort of burden.

[ He... blinks once when she goes for the hug, but misplaced sentiment notwithstanding there’s no resistance when he leans in and returns the hold. Truth be told he’s had too few, lately. ]

Must sound that way to you.

[ Crazy. Damnit, he sounds crazy. Just imagining the look on her face is too much right now, which is a good enough reason not to let go, just yet. ]

Believe me, it’s not... even close to the outcome I’d want for every downtrodden orphan. But it was the best thing that ever happened to me, Andie. Finding him...

[She wants to argue with him, tell him that he should've had a childhood -- but that isn't something she should scold him about. It's -- whoever it was that raised him, this man.

What he says, though -- it makes it impossible for her not to ask.]

...Damian. He's involved in this too?

[It's barely a question; Damian had seemed too careful a child to break his leg during some sort of playground accident. She tries to keep as much judgment out of her voice as she could, tries to keep herself neutral.]

[ Imaginary or not, he hears the judgement there, behind the words she isn't saying. And maybe it's one he deserves, after all. ]

...Yeah. I mean I can't give you specifics, but- [ but it would take a take ten minute news search to find pictures of Batman on patrol with Robin. He has to duck his head for a long moment before he can speak again. ]

I'm teaching him to help people.

[This is -- this is really pushing the limits of her not shouting. She knows that he means well, at least she hopes he does, but -- she had a childhood of people pushing ideology down her throat, too. Granted, it was a more sinister sort of ideology that she was able to get away from, but...]

You just said that your childhood isn't something you'd push on someone else, but that's exactly what you're doing. Did the same man who raised you raise Damian, at home?

[Because she knows what his mother did to him, at least vaguely. They'd talked about that, bonded over it.]

Are you even giving him a choice here? He's just a child! He should be with children his age complaining about homework.

[She can't help the way her voice is raising, passionate and more than anything, concerned. For both of them, but whether Dick will hear that or not is up to him.]

[ For half that moment he’s just... stuck. Stunned where he is with that stupefying anger. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Shouldn’t feel like he’s just taken a suckerpunch. ]

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but not every kid’s born with a two parental units and a white picket fence.

[ He has to be up and pacing now; restless and almost wild. He can’t look at her. Can’t look back. ]

I’m doing the best I can. I’m doing everything I can to keep him safe.

And I hate to break it to you, Dick, but sometimes it doesn't matter whether you are born with two parents and what seems like the perfect life.

[She doesn't get up and move with him, though, she just leans harder against her palms.]

Every child has to deal with the possibility that they don't want to be what their -- parent-types -- raise them to be.

[She can only imagine how much harder that must be when it's touted as being the high-moral choice of being the hero of a city at that age.]

And you don't think I've been there? [ Inside voice, Babs would say, but he's too wound up to listen to her now. Not now. ]

Damnit, Andie. You think I spent my life watching what he went through - watching him put himself through the ringer every night so I could wake up one day to a world that didn't have him in it? You think I want to watch another kid grow up with that? You think I asked for this?

[ Wow, what the hell is he saying. He's already said too much. Told her more than she needs to know, more than anyone ever should know. God, how could he have been so stupid?

He runs both hands through his hair and clenches and just. Tries to catch his breath. ]

You don’t know anything about me. And you don’t get to judge me.

[It's one thing to go through something like this yourself, but seeing someone else do the same is -- oddly painful. She does get up this time, walking up next to him buy stopping just short of touching distance. ]

No, I certainly don't think you did.

[She hates feeling like this, trying to express things like this in recognizable words. She sighs heavily.]

And you're right, Dick. I have no place telling you high moral things about how you should live your life or how you could help Damian. I just --

[She reaches a hand out for his arm, cautious. ]

-- I want to make sure you give him a choice where you feel you didn't get one, Dick. And I want you to call me if you or -- Merlin forbid, Damian -- are hurt. I don't care what time of night, or what risk there might be. I've fought in wars too, Dick, and the worst part of it is always trying to deal with it alone.

[ He glances down at the hand on his arm when she touches him. Moving away isn't really an option he's allowed. ]

I don't know how much you're gonna understand this... [ But he can say it. In that even, solid tone he's been missing. ]

...but I have to.

I guess I can't change how you think, then.

[And she sounds more than a little sad about that.

She drops her hand from his arm, though.]

I mean it, you know. If you or Damian ever need help...just keep in mind, all right?

...Yeah. I- [ This... this needs to be the part where he takes it back. Like Robin would. Like Nightwing would. Like anyone - anyone but Bruce would.

God, what is he doing. ]

-I will.

[ And he's up again, tugging the jacket back on and turning far enough that maybe she think to look, this time.

It's the only way. ]

Happy Birthday, Andie.

Thanks, Dick.

[Yeah, she's definitely going to need to stick around up here for a smoke before she goes back down to the party.]

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