Bat Family Outing

September 27, 2016:

The bats have a family BBQ. No "shop" talk.

Wayne Manor

Characters

NPCs: Alfred Pennyworth

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

* OOC Time: Thu Sep 29 18:21:09 2016 *

It's a barbecue.

Seriously. An old-fashioned family barbeque, and one that's forcing even Batman to participate— Alfred took away everyone's cell phones and various Bat-Signals at the start of the evening. Batman had given his up unwillingly, but only after everyone else had surrendered theirs, too.

So Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, and Stephanie Brown are sitting on the back patio of Wayne Manor, with Batman wearing his Bruce Wayne disguise in a polo and khakis, and a cooking apron that says 'Charcoal or Bust' on the front.

"Who wants dogs and who wants burgers?" Batman asks in his 'Bruce' tone of voice, looking over his shoulder at his three wards/students. "Or tofu patties, which…" Batman looks at the grill and makes a small face. Even to his progressive, strict diet, the tofu patties look just absolutely terrible. Blackening asymmetrically and curling up at the edges. At least it's fairly nice out, one of the last days of summer before a Gotham fall blows in over the oceanside.

When first asked to hand over her phone, Steph had hesitated for a moment. But it was Alfred. She can't ever say no to ALFRED. So, the phone was handed over and then… BBQ. Steph eagerly offered to help with the fixings, cutting lettuce and tomato after washing them, and setting out the buns.

"Ooh! I wanna burger!" chirps the blonde from the 'serving' table near the grill. But even as she answers, she's looking to Dick and Barbara holding out plates for them. Her hair is in a high pony tail, in jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers.

For the arrival, Barbara Gordon arrived from a mini-van with a wheel-chair lift. Slowly descending with the whine of gears and mechanismas that brught her chair to the ground and allowed her to use her arms to push herself to the door.

…Beyond:

From the chair her hands slowlystroke along the arms and then brace, pushing in brakes and then giving her a throttle to start forward and stand beside Stephanie, the only thing remaining are the glasses she pushes up on the bridge of nose as she inspects the cooking.

"The tofu…Burnt edges. I'll take that." If for anything then to make Bruce okay with the culinary lack when it comes to veggie deals.

…"You know how I like it after all these years!" Positively delighted!… For more bbq sauce!

The sound of an elbow against a glass door can be heard and then with a well-oiled sound the nearby sliding door opens partway.

Dick Grayson half-crouches holding two pitchers and then shifts to stand using the side of his foot to open the door wide enough to permit him outside with the group, "Iced Tea," he announces in mild sing-song the sound of ice rattling against the crystal pitchers in his hands.

Grayson wears a pair of preppy yellow shorts with tiny black anchors wreathed in green stitched about them. His turquoise button up is tucked in beneath a braided leather belt trimmed with silver and worn leather boat shoes upon his feet. Dick's eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses that have a green band attached to both ear pieces so they'll hang casually at his neck if desired.

He makes his way to the nearby table where Alfred assists in assuring that both are properly placed upon the table.

The former Boy Wonder caught what Stephanie and Barbara said on his way over and so he adds, "One of each," to the list of orders, "but, no Tofu." Looking out over the lawn, "No croquet today?" He wonders aloud.

Wayne Manor was retrofitted for wheelchair access almost a day after Barbara's condition was revealing to be more or less permament. Bruce smirks at Barbara's attempt to make him feel better, and deeming the tofu-patties done, he flips them to a tray and with a quick, deft pass of a knife, at least trims off the worst of the burned areas. He lays a burger out for Stephanie, and looks to Dick before serving him. "Dogs or patties, Dick?" he asks the younger man. Passing Stephanie her plate, he then moves the other meat to a cooler side of the grill where they'll stay warm but not burn. Bruce retrieves two dogs for himself— 100 artisanal meat— and settles in at the end of the table, nodding thanks at Dick and reaching to pour ice tea for people.

Steph gets her plate served and oohs to get to fixing it. Mayo. And Mustard. And Ketchup. And cheese. And lettuce, and tomato, and onion and pickle and potato chip. Each layer she works to balance just so, and each item added in what is clearly a specific order. It's not OCD. It's just, when she gets to fix the toppings herself, Stephanie likes them precisely. And maybe she watched an episode of Good Eats once that talked about the perfect rato of burger ingridents to each other.. and maybe she's been experimenting when she could. She's engrossed and doesn't spot the tea being poured.

Tête-à-têtes…

Tit for tat..

Babs came to a stand and accepted the tofu without a second glance at the burn, her own fingers plucking lettuce from beneath Stephanie's own to place across the crispy-fried vegetarian Pâté, hip check to the comrade and a wink and she nurses the masse of BBQ from thumb and pauses at Dick's arrival.

Glass is snagged and she steps to the side, sipping the tea, dropping a wedge of lemon into it from the pitcher. No words for now as the backs of thighs hit her brake-applied chair and she slowly sinks within.

"Aside from Steph having the Cookie Hookups, I may have some prmising readouts…" Guzzle. Hiccup. Nevermind the bit of lettuce hanging from the corner of her lips.

"Equal opportunity carnivore," Dick replies with a mild chuckle to his own humor, before accepting the meat.

"Hey Barbara!" He then says with some enthusiasm and walks over to her putting an arm around her back and shoulders and squeezing her into his in a friendly brotherly hug, "It's so good to see you. I keep wanting to stop by but I stay so busy in Bludhaven that I hardly have time to cross the bay during the week." He says with some apology in his tone, "How's life?"

There's a few moments before he looks over at the table and sees that Bruce has settled so he begins to transition that way.

"Hey Steph," he ruffles her blonde hair into its mussed with his free hand, "Cookies," he muses aloud, "What trouble have you been up to?"

"May I respectfully remind you, Miss Gordon," Alfred says, as he sweeps to the table with tray in hand. "That there is no 'shop talk' today at the table." He sniffs and sets out his tray of chilled ice cream bars, and then returns to the interior of the Wayne Manor.

"You heard Alfred," Batman says, his voice cool. He goes to sip his tea and then pauses, a hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "Everyone just sit in quiet, I guess."

He sips, sets the glass down, and then starts laying the condiments out on his bratwurst. "You look like you're moving better," Bruce tells Barbara. "Are you back to full flexibility?" he inquires of the redhead.

Stephanie was working on keeping hte tomatos from slightly when Barbara hip checks her. The blonde yips as the tomato slips and falls to the plate. She huffs, then grin-pouts at Barbara in a manner that suggests much retribution!! But later. There is a burger to build. Stephanie returns her attention to her work.

The top bun placed, Stephanie smiles at her creation and is just straightening up when… hair! mussed! But! The pony tail! It was -perfect-! Now? Now it's not! Now it's crooked and the pony-tie is uneven and Stephanie flails slightly.

"Ack! Dick! Blarghasfalhral," she gets out incoherently. Shoulders up, like a cat that just got wet, Stephanie reaches for a napkin to clean her hands so she can reach up to pull the ponytail out and fix it.

"Me? troubles? The usual. School. Extracurriculars. Got an internship. Oh! Five to nine in the evening, so I'll be an hour late on weekdays, Bruce," Stephanie says, blue-green eyes turning to the head of the table at that last. Not shop. Just mentioning schedule before she forgets and then ends UP in trobule. She uses her fingers to brush her hair back into a pony tail.

"You?" is asked of Dick, attention returnign to the Hair Musser.

"Same old same old," is Dick's casual reply, "Once you get old like me it all becomes the same old stale routine," his blue eyes flicker to the head of the table, "Isn't that right Bruce?" Those final words are spoken with a good dose of levity, adding, "This is probably the most exciting thing either of us have done all week."

"Internship?" He redirects the conversation, "That's really great. What are you doing?"

Dick bypasses the buns but begins to load up on the condiments as everyone else begins to move down the line.

"…It happens." Babs states to Dick, completely and seemingly non-plussed as she reclines into a chair beside the one with wheels, crosing her denim clad legs while mashing the bun to (nonaligned) fixings in a brutal manner of smoosh, and munching.

A slide of that be-spectacled gaz etowards Bruce with his query, swallowing the mouthful while sweeping the remnants from a corner like a scorned child at Alfred's reminder. A shift of eyes and once she swallows she speaks lowly after Stephanie realigned her ponytail and spoke of her activities. "The exercises work, core. Best we could do. But I figured after so long… The field is the only way." A raspy clearing of throat and a paranid shift of gaze where Alfred had disappeared.

"Barbeque's, I mean." Cough. "Lots of them." Hence the tofu?

"Wait until you're as old as I am," Bruce says, gravelling a little. "/Everything/ feels old and stale." He takes a few more bites of his meal— the food quality is excellent, so even the bread is artisanal wheath instead of Eddy's white bread.

"It'll take time," he agrees with Babs. "Be patient. Stick to your therapy schedule." Something wry crosses his tone— the very advice he'd heard from Alfred years past.

"But the body finds its own limits," he concedes, knowing full well that no force can stop Barbara once she's made up her mind about something.

"I'm helping Miss Dawes at Gotham's DA Office," Stephanie tells Dick, pressing down gently on her burger and taking a knife to it to cut in half. Pony tail ALL fixed now. "I haven't really picked a major yet, and I'm running low on basics to take. Maybe… I'll go Pre-Law," Stephanie says with a shrug of her shoulders, clearly not really able to decide. After all, once she settles she'll focus completely. Until then… she's just not sure yet!

"Yes yes, I know. Walking uphill, both ways, in a Gotham blizzard with a boxing glove on one foot and a sardine can on the other." A smirk from Babs as she uncrosses her legs and slides her suddenly empty plate upon the table with a simultaneous rise.

"Must. Be. Tight." A small cylinder presses against the denim pocket of Babs' jeans, and with a reach that affixed pont of Steph's comes slightly undone.

A brace of hands on the tables edge and she rises, her hip shooting a pain down her left leg that numbs, but she smiles and the glasses are pushed back into place; light flashing off the lenses.

"Let me braid that for you Steph. I insist." Not insisting she needs that Tiger Balm rubbed higher then she can reach!

"The DA's Office," Dick's playful tone drains to one of serious consideration, "I'm sure you'll learn a lot there."

There's a beat and his former familial tone returns, "Hey, you should come for a ride-along some time. I'll check and see if any of my cases are assigned to General Dawes. You can see how both parts of the process fit together."

Dick and Bruce get a small glance, then away, chin perched aloft. Nope. No pain. None. At. All.

"Better be sure if you're going pre-law or not. If you get a wild hare to start law school, you can't drop out. I'm not paying for /two/ juris doctor degrees." Bruce smiles again, mostly to himself, and finishes his first dog.

"There's some of your old hair supplies in the north suite bathroom, Barbara," Batman reminds the redhead. "Why don't you and Stephanie go get that mess untangled before we need a more drastic solution." He picks up the scissors, *snicks* them twice, and sets the where they won't fall off the table's edge.

He gives Dick a sly, inclusive grin, and reaches for his other dog.

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