"Dylan and Dick; Dick and Dylan," David Ivanov sing-songed, scraping away the dirt from the crease of his fingernails with his knife.
"That name has a nice ring to it. Don't you think, son?"
"Yeah...ring...I was thinking, dad, maybe we should't rush into this. Maybe we could give him some time."
"You mean, give the little 'birdie' some time to stretch his wings?" David asked, adjusting the bowtie around his neck.
Dylan frowned at the added stress on thw word 'birdie', but decided to let it go.
"I'll be home soon. Don't start without me."
"Eww! Dad, that's gross!" Dylan exclaimed grimacing. David left the room, winking at his son, then closed the door.
"Klavdiya," Dylan called to his maid. "Get my best suit out. We're going to have a nice visit with a friend. Yakov! Roman! Let's go. The night won't be young for long."
Dylan was led out of the manor with his two bodyguards. He walked with a new stride. He was going to make Dick confess to him. He was also going to give him the time of his life in the process.
"Richard Grayson," he whispered to himself, chuckling as he entered the limo. "This will be a night to die for..."
Dylan and Dick... Dick and Dylan...