Chapter Thirty

Heart To Heart

She'd settled herself in the last second, as Nightwing stepped through the doors a moment later.

"Ready to leave?" He asked casually, not at all sounding like he'd just been in a huge fight with his best friend.

He really was a skilled actor.

Unfortunately for her, Morgan wasn't. She could only manage a jerky nod, fearing that she'd start cursing him out the moment she opened her mouth.

He approached her, reaching a hand out for assistance as he went. "Do you need he-"

"I can walk." She snapped and got down by herself. "Let's just go."

He took a step back at her sudden change of attitude and watched her with sharp eyes as she walked ahead of him, prepared to leave the Hall of Justice as soon as possible. The building seemed too restrictive suddenly and she yearned to get someplace else. Get out in the open, into the fresh air. Calm herself down somewhat. She felt like her blood was literally boiling in her anger. Some cool air would be good.

They transported from the Hall of Justice to Blüdhaven in a moment, and Nightwing led the way as they passed down the streets.

Given how late it was, there wasn't really anyone out, but they still automatically kept to the shadows to avoid being seen. Neither had a spare change of clothing and could only pray that nobody would notice Nightwing and Sparrow entering an apartment complex a few minutes later. The last thing Nightwing needed right now was anyone figuring his secret identity out.

Morgan let him lead the way, if only so she could glare daggers at his back for the entire walk. There was a thick tension in the air between them, one Morgan knew she'd created and one she knew Nightwing was also very aware of. He probably didn't know the origin of it, and must've been pretty confused by now.

She really wasn't doing very well on trying to hide that she'd found everything out.

Acting had never been her greatest skill.

Unlike her mentor, it seemed.

The thought made her seethe all over and she gritted her teeth to keep her mouth shut.

Arriving at his place, he unlocked the door and – in a true gentlemanly fashion that irked Morgan because he was anything but a gentleman, he was a lying, deceiving prick – held the door open for her to enter first.

She stepped through the doorway and stopped in the middle of the room, waiting for him to close the door behind them.

They were alone now. She'd promised herself to keep her temper in check until they were alone so she could confront him.

And now they were alone. Morgan took the mask off of her face. She wanted him to see the fury in her eyes, she decided as she threw the mask carelessly to the floor.

She turned swiftly on her heel and stalked towards him, lightning flashing in her eyes.

"Morgan, what-"

He never got to finish his sentence because at that moment Morgan brought her hand up and slapped him across the face for all she was worth. He lurched sideways from the blow, almost losing his balance.

She suspected she only got her hit in because it was the last thing he'd expected and he hadn't been prepared to defend himself. And because he was slightly disoriented for the mild concussion he'd gained from the explosion.

Well, maybe you shouldn't have let your friend blow the damn place up, then.

Shock was the only expression on his face as he straightened, covering his cheek with his gloved hand.

"Ow!" He accusingly exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"I think you know what, you lying, traitorous, scheming dick-weed!" Morgan hissed, her voice gradually growing until she was practically shouting. It was the first thing she'd said since they'd left the Hall of Justice.

His eyes widened behind his mask. "You-"

"Oh yeah," Morgan nodded, her glare fierce as she licked her lower lip and bit roughly down on it. "I heard everything. Maybe you should make sure you're actually alone when you start spewing secrets like that."

Morgan wasn't sure what she most angry about. He'd been lying from the start. He'd let everyone think Aqualad was a bad guy. He'd allowed everyone to mourn over their friend, when he knew she wasn't actually dead.

He'd let them blow up the Cave.

Morgan decided to focus on the lie behind Artemis' death first.

"I mourned for her!" Morgan shouted. "I spent days wondering if I could've done something, anything that could've saved her life! I still have nightmares about it!"

She stepped forward and poked his chest angrily. "You let every single member of this Team mourn over their friend, very well knowing that she was alive!"

He grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her from poking him, and took a step forward himself, forcing her backwards. "I did what I did to stop an invasion." He replied, his voice low and angry. Angry because she knew or because of her accusations? She wasn't sure. "Secrecy was key. I couldn't let anyone know what was really going on because it would endanger several lives. Aqualad's especially."

Morgan wrenched her wrist roughly from his grip and took another step back, hating how very well he argued his case.

"What about the Cave then? Do you even care about the fact that several people just lost their home? How can you possibly justify that destruction? I know it was to save La'gaan, but there must have been another way that didn't result in the complete obliteration of my home! If you had tried hard enough to find another solution instead of choosing the easy route-"

"You think that was easy?" He immediately protested. "You think any of this has been easy? I hate that we had to destroy the Cave, but if it helps us rescue La'gaan and bring down the Light and their partner, I won't care about that place. It'll have been worth it."

"You're a robot, you know that?" Morgan incredulously pointed out, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling restless with her angry energy. "Sweet mercy, you are such a cold-hearted douche bag. You do all these things that devastate your team and justify them by claiming it was for the 'greater good'! We're supposed to be your friends, Nightwing."

"Well, what would you have had me do?" He impatiently growled out, crossing his arms in front of him, a fiery glare on his face.

"Tell us the truth!" Morgan yelled. "Trust your team to be able to keep a secret! We're not idiots, Nightwing, we would've been able to understand and forgive your actions if you had confided in us!"

"I can't risk the lives of not only Kaldur, but also Artemis now because I want to spare a few hurt feelings." He coldly responded.

"Spare a few-? Are you serious?" Morgan growled. "We all thought Artemis was dead! Everyone on the Team hates Aqualad!"

She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth angrily together. "Why? Why don't you trust us to be able to keep that secret?"

"Because I can't afford to trust everyone!" Nightwing exclaimed. "When this team was first formed, there was a mole on it that fed our enemies all the information they needed, which almost resulted in the defeat of the entire Justice League. It's the reason Batman and the others are off world right now. I can't make the same mistake that we did back then. I can't allow myself to trust anyone."

"So you think we're all spies?" Morgan shot back. "Is that it?"

"Of course not!" He retaliated, sounding frustrated. "But if even one member of this Team turns out to be, a year's worth of planning and working will be completely ruined and lives will be lost."

"Or maybe you just thought it would be easier to not have to tell anyone because you're paranoid." All of Nightwing's points were legit and logical, but it didn't matter at this point because Morgan just wanted to keep shouting at him. She wanted to spew every curse she knew in his face because she was so angry with him. It wasn't fair and it wasn't logical, but she couldn't stop herself. She dug her nails into her palms as her fists clenched. "Do you even care about the Team?"

"Don't presume to know anything about my motivation!" He practically roared at her. She'd rarely seen him lose his composure like that. The only other incident she could remember was when they fought about her going on patrols behind his back. "Everything I've been doing was for the survival of the Team! This past year, I have been forced to make some of the hardest decisions I've ever made. Decisions that have kept me up at night and decisions that have made me hate myself. Decisions I knew nobody else would have the courage to make!"

Nightwing seemed unable to stop himself as he suddenly, unexpectedly, completely opened up to her and spilled his heart all over the floor.

"I can't fall asleep at night because the image of the mourning faces of the Team is nearly branded into my brain. And when I do, I get nightmares. All food tastes like ash to me and I get nauseous when I eat. I can't focus on any kind of school work. I haven't visited Bruce's butler, Alfred, who is practically my father or grandfather, for weeks because I can't look him in the eye. I have near-constant pounding headaches, I'm exhausted and weary to the bone, but I can't stop training because that's the only time of day where I don't have to focus on what I'm doing to my Team! My friends! You may think you've been feeling miserable for the past few days Morgan, but let me tell you, I would trade that blissful ignorance any day for the heartache I'm being forced to go through."

A loud silence followed his outburst. Quite abruptly, he seemed to reel in whatever had made him share all of this and he sucked in a deep breath before he shut his mouth tightly, pressing his lips into a thin line. Apparently having reached his limit, he sank onto the couch next to him and pulled off his mask, rubbing furiously at his eyes as he let out a weary and shaky sigh. Any fight was gone from his body as he sank low into the cushions, slinging an arm over his eyes to hide his face from her.

Morgan was at an absolute loss for words. She stood staring at him for a long moment, unable to move.

Her anger had faded and suddenly guilt was the most prominent emotion churning in her stomach.

He wasn't an emotionless robot. Rather, he kept a firm lid on his emotions because they were a powerful storm. He did care, in fact, he might care too much.

Hesitantly, she approached him and sank down onto her knees on the couch next to him.

Apart from the tensing of his body, he didn't show that he'd noticed her at all.

Morgan swallowed dryly and licked her lower lip as she tried to figure out what on earth she was supposed to do now. She'd kind of accidentally broken her mentor and now she had to put him together again.

But how do to that.. that was the hard part.

Saying 'I'm sorry' seemed kind of lame. Doing the whole 'I understand' routine was just stupid because she wouldn't, in a million years, understand what he was going through. And while she could, if she really admitted it to herself, understand why he did what he'd done, it still didn't help much to comfort him. Now that her anger had faded, she could understand. And to be honest, she actually thought he was brave for having the courage to do what he did.

Anything she thought of to say was either unnecessary or not enough.

But she had to try anyway.

"Dick.." She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder and he slowly dropped the arm that was covering his eyes, revealing the intelligent, blue orbs to her. He was staring straight ahead, eyes trained on the ceiling and Morgan was surprised when they were shinier and wetter than usual.

He was not allowed to start crying. Morgan would start crying too and then they'd be the most pathetic people on the planet. She couldn't handle crying.

She scooted closer and wrapped the arm across his shoulders, pulling him to her. He allowed the contact, allowed her to lean his head against her shoulder and collarbone. It encouraged her to wrap her left arm, making sure to not jostle her sprained wrist, across his back so she now held him tightly. Her right hand was in his hair as she automatically started stroking it, perhaps more to soothe herself than him.

He was too young to be forced to make the choices he was making. Too young. Nobody should have this much responsibility on their shoulders when they were only nineteen.

"I'm sorry." She finally mustered the courage to whisper. "You're right. About everything. I'm sorry."

She could feel his eyelashes brush against her neck and it made goose bumps appear on her skin underneath the dark-blue suit she was wearing. Her words had been enough it seemed, because his arms came up to wrap themselves tightly around her back, fingers brushing against the base of her wings, making them twitch.

Her heart was pounding in her ears at the proximity. She could feel his hair tickle her cheek, could feel his fingers press into her back, could feel the weight of his head against her collarbone and could feel him breathe. She could just feel him.

Scared at her own body's reaction to the embrace, she broke it soon after and got off the couch.

Dick stood up too, towering over her as he always did and when she met his eyes after a moment's cowardice, he looked as composed and calm as ever.

"I'm going to bed." He said mechanically and walked into his bedroom.

Morgan stood, nailed to the spot, and looked at the closed door, emotions that she couldn't define swelling in her chest after she'd watched his broad back disappear behind it.

He come out a moment later with bed sheets and a cover, the same red shirt she'd slept in the last time nestled on top of the pile.

"Good night." She forced out, finding her voice right as he was about to slip his door shut again.

The door stopped moving as he paused.

"Good night, Morgan."

March 24th

He stood at his closed bedroom door, breathing in deeply as he attempted to gather the courage to simply.. open the door..

But Dick found it harder than usual, knowing that Morgan was on the other side, sleeping on his couch.

He was embarrassed by the break down he'd had the night before, embarrassed that, out of all people, it had to be Morgan witnessing it.

And it wasn't just embarrassment. He was downright ashamed of his slip up. He was afraid of how easy it had been to tell her everything like that.

He was scared at just how much she knew now, how much power she held over both his and the Team's future.

When Morgan had accidentally found his secret identity out, Dick had been less than pleased, uneasy with this knowledge she suddenly had on him. A carefully selected few had been allowed to know about his secret identity. Morgan, if she'd managed to stay on the Team for several years and gained his trust completely, might've been allowed to know. After at least three years of working closely together, he might have trusted her with the information.

He hadn't planned on her finding out only a few weeks after getting to know him.

And back then, he'd been angry and afraid that she had found out already. Eventually, he'd come to terms with the fact that she knew, had actually made peace with it.

Now he found himself in the exact same situation and wondered how she somehow managed to keep accidentally stumbling upon all of his carefully kept secrets.

It was as infuriating as it was terrifying. She was as infuriating as she was terrifying.

So he stood by his bedroom door, hair still damp after a long, scorching hot shower, clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved green shirt, trying to convince himself that opening his bedroom door and walking through it to get some breakfast really was much better than staring at his doorknob for another ten minutes.

Now he just needed his body to actually follow through with what his mind had already decided.

He rued how awkward things were bound to be. She'd seen him completely vulnerable. Heck, she'd seen him with tears in his eyes and she'd wrapped her arms around him and comforted him. It had terrified him how her apology and her soothing hug had actually managed to make him feel so much better about everything. Like the situation wasn't as bleak as he'd thought it was, as long as she hugged him.

He told himself that it was because if she could forgive him, it was likely that the others could too. If Morgan of all people forgave him so easily, maybe there was hope that the others wouldn't hold a grudge against him either.

Nightwing didn't do weakness. Not in front of other people. And the fact that he'd been weak in front of her made him want to just stay behind that closed door. But wouldn't that be weakness and cowardice as well?

He grabbed hold of the doorknob and turned it, silently stepping through the door, locating the girl that was currently occupying not only his couch, but, unfortunately, also his thoughts.

She was still asleep, dark bruises under her eyes indicating that she needed the rest. She was lying on her side with her back and wings pressed against the backrest of the couch, hands lying by her head, peeking out from underneath the big, fluffy comforter she'd borrowed last night.

Dick realized he'd forgotten to lend her a pillow and instantly felt bad. Her right hand was awkwardly tucked halfway underneath her head as if trying to make up for the lack of it.

She didn't stir in the slightest as he moved across the room and grabbed his keys, which were lying abandoned on his kitchen table. He decided to let her be for now. She obviously needed the sleep.

They'd arrived at roughly four AM that morning and had spent the first ten minutes arguing. Then after Dick had retreated to his own room, he could hear her stir around restlessly for at least another hour before settling down.

He'd fallen asleep soon after that himself.

Unfortunately that was only five hours ago.

Dick hadn't been kidding when he said he couldn't fall asleep at night and when he did, he was plagued by nightmares. Yet, strangely enough, he hadn't had a single unpleasant dream for the duration of the night. His mind had been entirely blank, not even a single dream, and he suspected he could've kept sleeping for several hours more. He had sorely needed it.

And then he'd been ripped from the most glorious sleep he'd had in three weeks, by his ringing cell-phone.

It hadn't even been anything important. One of his school friends had wanted to know if he was going to make it to class – to which Dick answered with a very firm no and an annoyed let me sleep – and the phone call was ended ten seconds after it had started. He didn't even bother to find out why Michele had wanted to know if he'd make it to class. Maybe he wanted to borrow Dick's notes. Not that Dick had any notes to let him borrow.

He'd tried to go back to sleep but the spell had been broken and his sleep was now restless and dark.

So after lying in bed for half an hour and desperately wishing he could go back to that awesome sleep from before, he'd gotten up and taken a shower.

He wondered if he could get Morgan to hug him again and if it was even what had made the difference in the first place.

Probably not. How was a silly little hug supposed to change anything?

Dick shook himself out of his thoughts and exited his apartment after shrugging on a leatherjacket he'd found draped across one of the barstools by the small island in his kitchen, and went in search of a hot coffee and possibly breakfast.

Morgan's entire body ached when she finally, reluctantly, joined the world of the living.

It took her a moment to realize where she was. Dick's apartment.

Because last night.. the Cave had exploded.

Her home had exploded.

Morgan curled in on herself despite the pain in her ribs and pulled the comforter further up over her head, disappearing entirely underneath the fluffy cover. She kind of wanted the couch to open up and swallow her so she wouldn't have to face the world ever again.

Everything was gone. All of her clothes. Books she'd spent many hours of delivering pizzas to afford. Her computer. Her school things.

Strangely enough, the article of clothing she mourned the loss of the most was the dress she'd worn at the Winter Ball. She'd grown pretty fond of that thing. And it had been a gift from her only friends outside of the Team.

In a way she was glad she'd worn her Sparrow outfit when the explosion happened. It was easily her most important piece of clothing and she'd have been even sadder if it had been destroyed too. It shared history with her. She'd worn it through a lot of fights. It was what cemented her identity as a Superhero.

Morgan knew she could always get a new one, but it wouldn't be the same.

Okay she was the sentimental type, sue her.

When the air underneath the comforter turned uncomfortable warm and oxygen-deprived, Morgan resurfaced and sat up slowly, minding her tender ribs and her bruised body. She needed to use the bathroom.

The apartment was quiet and she sat silently for a while, trying to hear if Dick was even still there.

His bedroom door was half-way open, meaning he'd been up and about already. She remembered him closing it the night before, so he had to have left his room at some point.

She gingerly got up, resisting the urge to stretch as she knew that was bound to hurt, before hesitantly approaching the bedroom door. Peeking inside – privately praying that he wasn't in there shirtless again and yet hoping that he was – she found the room thankfully – disappointingly? – empty.

Slipping inside, she headed for the bathroom. She double-checked that she'd remembered to lock the door behind her, not sure she'd survive the mortification if he suddenly arrived home and walked in on her while she was peeing.

After taking care of her business, she couldn't help but aim a longing look at his shower. She hadn't had the chance to wash up last night, meaning she was still covered in sooth and dirt and her skin was coated in a fine layer of itchy salt after her dip in the ocean.

She'd, despite the heavy pain it caused her, managed to shrug out of her suit before going to bed last night, meaning she only had to get out of the red t-shirt she'd borrowed, and her underwear.

Morgan winched as she pulled the shirt over her head. She'd have to ask Nightwing if he kept any painkillers around when he got back.

She slowly shrugged out of the t-shirt and took a moment to assess her body in the mirror. She hadn't actually seen herself after the damage and was surprised at how bad she looked. The bruises across her abdomen were all still a bright purple, though with more of a bluish tint than a red one. Her face was scratched and her right cheekbone sported a green bruise, starting right were a thankfully rapidly healing jagged wound across her temple started.

Her left hand was still bound in white gauze and she made sure to use it as little as possible, as per Captain Atom's request.

She had other bruises coating her body, but none as bad as the ones covering her torso.

Morgan was pretty sure she had never taken a beating like that before.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, much more willing focus on showering.

Before she could start removing her underwear, however, Morgan realized she was missing a very important thing.

A towel.

Which, she'd learned after her last visit, he kept in the closet in his bedroom.

"He's not home. It's fine." Morgan mumbled to herself as she slowly unlocked the door and tiptoed across his bedroom in nothing but her bra and panties. Opening up his closet, she first took a few seconds to regain her focus as she was suddenly assaulted with the smell of him. It wasn't unpleasant at all, in fact Morgan felt slightly intoxicated by it, which was what annoyed her more than anything.

"Towels.. towels.." She mumbled as she tried to locate the shelf she'd find them on.

She briefly wondered if this could be considered an invasion of privacy, but she pushed the thought away. She needed her goddamn shower and if he didn't want her to riffle through his clothes, he should've put a towel in the bathroom for her or something.

"Aha!" She spotted the desired cloth. Unfortunately, the stupid giant had thought it was a good idea to place them on the top shelf where Morgan most certainly couldn't reach them. Looking around his room for something to help her, she spotted an office car by the window.

Of course the front door chose that moment to open and Morgan felt panic briefly take over.

No way in hell was he walking in on her in her underwear.

In her frantic state, she forgot all about the chair and instead focused her telekinesis on one of the towels, yanking backwards, praying that it would fall off the shelf and into her arms.

What she got, unfortunately, was an explosion of towels as they all flew off the shelf and spread around her, several landing in her face.

"Morgan?" She head from the living room, her muscles freezing when she recognized Dick's voice.

Any moment now, he was going to walk through that door and see her, standing in the middle of a small mountain of towels, hair a giant, unattractive nest, in nothing but her underwear.

Was it weird that the part she was most embarrassed about what the fact that she looked like an apple someone had sent down a flight of stairs with all of her bruises?

Something in her shook her awake – she liked to think it was her survival instinct as she was pretty sure she'd die from sheer mortification if he saw her like this – and she grabbed the towel closest to her and darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

Her ribs protested loudly at the frantic dash and she leaned against the door as she waited for them to settle down again.

"What on earth-?" She heard his confused voice from the other side of the door as he'd undoubtedly walked in and seen the mess she'd made.

Her lips twitched into a smile as she fought the urge to laugh.

The entire situation was, despite her own unfortunate role, pretty comical.

The door shifted behind her as her mentor leaned against it. "Morgan, what on earth are you doing?" He asked, sound only slightly muffled by the door.

"I'm taking a shower." She quickly replied. "I'll be out in a moment."

"I've got breakfast when you're done." The door shifted again as he stopped leaning on it and disappeared into the living room.

Stripping out of her remaining articles of clothing, she waited for the water to turn warm before stepping under the showerhead, instantly feeling refreshed. Scrubbing at her body as best as she could without disturbing any of her many bruises, Morgan found her thoughts drifting to the night before.

More specifically, the part where she'd thought she might have feelings for Nightwing.

She'd legitimately thought that she had somehow developed a crush on her mentor. Even now, she had to acknowledge that her reaction to him dying had been too extreme to excuse as simply worrying for a mentor or a friend.

And then she'd found out the truth and she'd gotten absolutely furious at him. Had hated him with her entire being.

But then, after he'd opened up to her like that – even though Morgan was pretty sure that hadn't actually been on purpose – and explained everything, she didn't hate him anymore.

But did she like him?

Morgan wasn't even sure anymore. She didn't know what to think. Despite being eighteen years old, the concept of crushing on a guy was entirely foreign.

As a young girl, she'd been pretty far behind on those kinds of things. By the time her friends were all going to the mall and getting boyfriends, Morgan had still been playing with dolls and wearing her curly hair in pigtails.

And then, once she'd turned thirteen her wings had started growing and getting a boyfriend had been the last thing on her mind. The past five years, she hadn't had any friends so getting to know any boys well enough to actually develop feelings for him had been impossible.

So now, as sad as it was, she was so inexperienced that she wasn't even sure how to identify whether her feelings were romantic or platonic.

And yet, that wasn't entirely true. She was pretty sure that she did harbor some feelings for her mentor. The urge to kiss him wouldn't have been there last night if she didn't.

But she was pretty sure those feelings were very, very small and bound to fade pretty soon.

And if not, it didn't matter.

Because there was no way in neither heaven nor hell that she would actually act on those feelings.

If her terrifying lack of experience in the field, added to her cowardice and awkwardness hadn't been enough to scare her off of attempting anything, the fact that the subject of her affection was Nightwing certainly was.

He was Mister 'Unreachable'.

Leader of a Team of superheroes. Adopted son of a billionaire. Tall, lean, well-muscled and absolutely gorgeous.

He was on an entirely different level than her.

Emotionally distant. Scheming liar. Distrustful.

Intelligent. Good hearted. Driven. Would probably give his life to save his Team.

Yeah, there was no way Morgan would ever pull together enough courage to actually admit any potential feelings. Neither to herself nor him.

She decided that it was stupid and that she'd be better off just forgetting all about it. Pretend her little, silent admission to herself had never happened.

She did not have feelings for Dick Grayson.

She did not have feelings for Nightwing.

There. Wasn't so hard.

She turned off the water and stood for half a minute, silently drying off before she reached for her towel and started gently drying her sore body.

Despite her suit being dirty and stiff after being dunked in salt water, Morgan still put it on. She didn't have any other clothes and she was not asking Dick for any. Absolutely not.

But, simply because she knew walking around in her Superhero get-up in broad daylight was a stupid idea, she also pulled the t-shirt she'd slept in over her head, hiding the recognizable symbol on her chest, the suit now simply looking like a black, skintight onesie.

Massaging her hair in the towel to quickly dry it off, she mentally prepared herself to go out, sit down, and eat breakfast with her mentor.

Whom she didn't have feelings for.

Merry Christmas! I thought it seemed fitting to post a new chapter on Christmas Eve! As Morgan already mentioned when they held Christmas at the Cave, in Denmark we don't have Christmas Morning, so when you guys are all opening your presents the next morning, I'm trying to sleep and pretend Christmas isn't over.

How about a little present in the form of a review for our nice, faithful fanfiction writer? ;)

I hope the confrontation was wild enough? I feel like Some important stuff was said between them.

Anyway, I hope you all have a lovely day, even those of you that don't celebrate any holidays.

And to the guest that asked for me to change the rating of the story to K so they can read it, sorry, but I wont. Changing the rating wont magically make the story a K-rated story, and there's a reason it's rated T. If you can only read K rated stories, I assume there's a reason for it.

Fun fact: Morgan is actually the tidy one of the two of them. Not because Dick's necessarily the messy type, he just doesn't have the time to clean very often.