Bruce stared down at the boy. "What did I say about language?"
The boy shrugged. "I don't know. I put that into the file of things not to pay attention to. It's right up there next to, 'Don't kick Dick in the shin when he says something a 5 year old would consider unintelligent.'"
Bruce simply glared at him.
The boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know this part…it's where you glare at me, and then tell me to go to my room. Unfortunately, this is also the part where I say 'screw you, I'm going out', and leave." The boy walked out without saying another word.
Bruce knew he should go after him. He knew he should go ground the little punk, but he also knew he wasn't ready for the long, drawn-out battle ahead of him if he chased after the kid. He sank down into the seat behind him. He suddenly looked and felt ten years older than he was. Jason had a way of doing that to him. He wasn't ready for this…this kind of commitment, and he found himself wondering why he had even considered, let alone, chosen to take on another Robin…more specifically this Robin.
Jason was a hard-headed, street-wise, angry, irrational, impetuous, overly-confident, pain in the ass. The kid had potential, but Bruce wasn't sure he would ever be able to deal with…well…all the other parts of Jason's personality he would have liked to suppress, if not remove completely. Understanding kids like Jason, or more to the point, understanding kids in general was not one of Bruce's strong points. Who was he kidding? Understanding kids wasn't even something he wanted to attempt. Unfortunately, Bruce knew it might be a necessary evil if he was ever going to get Jason to stop being so brash and to start thinking things through before acting. The kid was quick to use his mouth, but slow to use his brain. Bruce had hopes of being able to work that out of him, but so far it seemed useless. The kid had a major problem with authority, not that Bruce could blame him, but that didn't make any of it easier.
Alfred silently walked into the room, and stood beside Bruce. "Where is the young master going?"
Bruce offered nothing more than a grunt.
Alfred cleared his throat. "The young master went out?"
Bruce began to massage his temples, and issued another grunt.
Alfred stood perfectly still. "I see, and where did the young master go?"
Bruce hunched forward just a little more, and grunted again; this one was a bit longer.
Alfred walked a few steps away, and began to dust. "I would hope you have every intention of following the young master."
Bruce gave him one last grunt before exiting the room.
The End