"Apologies for my ill-mannered ward," Bruce deadpanned, unable to help himself. He doesn't follow up with any of the twenty excuses that his mind immediately comes up with. Most of them are a variation on the theme of "He's spoiled," and while Bruce could credibly claim that Dick was like that when he found him, giving him so much independence at such a young age reaped for them both nearly as much detriment as benefit.

He'd yet to regret it, however. Dick was the kind of person whose talents had to be utilized to their fullest potential, lest he waste away from spiteful boredom and lack of direction. His work ethic alone demanded constant stimulation, and Bruce quickly realized that the only two environments capable of providing on that level were an international traveling circus and a late night in Gotham.

"I'm happy to follow you," he said, quickly shooting off a text to Dick that he was leaving.

Omi was similarly talented, and it pained him to see all of it polished to a lethal point. Blood corrodes, but sometimes, the quality of the base material can recover its fullest splendor.

Omi was worth further investigation.