Chapter Text
Dick woke up slowly. This was a rare privilege, the kind that only happened when even his bruises knew he was safe.
He blinked, then blinked again. The darkness he found himself in was almost complete, thanks to the best black out curtains money could buy. Light only entered his penthouse bedroom in a thin, strong, line from the cracked bedroom door. Dick wasn’t sure if the door was open from when Steph crept in or Damian crept out, but he was sure that the darkness and its stitch of light was a large part of the safety tucked along his bones.
Another large part of that would be the way Steph was tucked into his side, grabbing his arm sleepily in order to duck under it and return herself to complete darkness.
“Five more minutes,” Steph mumbled.
Dick chuckled, softly, barely a noise at all. He also easily complied. The Rapunzel Code made it very clear he had nowhere to be today.
For once, however, it wasn’t his brain that kept him awake, whirring with problems and potential fixes and To Do Lists a mile long.
Steph groaned after what was probably only two more minutes. She star-fished out, hand hitting Dick in the chest, before rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in a pillow. Dick considered for a minute before rising to lean up on his elbow, one eyebrow arched. She wouldn’t be able to see the eyebrow, but he was convinced she’d be able to feel it.
She did.
Steph groaned again. He raised the second eyebrow.
“Stop it!”
He complied, but reached out with his free hand to start running it through her hair. It was getting long again. She’d had to cut it short after it slipped her patrol clips and got sprayed with a tacky, slightly poisonous goo. Dick would have to offer to help her braid it back before their next patrol. They both found the little ritual relaxing and he’d gotten very good at different styles during his time as Batman.
“Stop being nice.” Her voice was a mutter this time, words barely heard after escaping from the pillow.
“To you?” Dick asked. “Never.”
She sighed, more evident in the lines of her body than in sound. “I’m sorry.”
Dick’s hand stilled for longer than he would like. He understood what she was trying to say. What she was apologizing for. Worse, there was a part of him, one he didn’t want to examine too closely, that wanted the apology.
Last night was a cluster fuck. No amount of soft darkness, bracing light, warm covers, and affirming hugs would cover up that particular fact. And, while this was in no way Steph’s fault, she’d been the one to bring it to attention. Her words, her arguments, her unwavering stance had turned something that might have been ignored as post-mission tension and a minor break down on Dick’s part into something that would need to be addressed.
Talked about.
That was the thing about being the communicative one, the one who prompted others to talk and provided a safe space for said conversations. If he didn’t want to talk about something, he could usually just not. It wouldn’t come up without him starting the conversation.
Thankfully, the love Dick had for his siblings was as vital to him as the breath in his lungs, and thus a much fucking larger part than any other. He found it almost surprisingly easily to spread out his hand on the back of Steph’s head, marvelling slightly at the implicit and staggering amount of trust being allowed to do so showed, and be honest.
“You were magnificent, Stephie.”
She didn’t respond aloud, but her shoulders tensed after a moment and she heaved herself up on both her elbows, looking out at him from the side and under a curtain of hair.
Dick, partially to be contrary, took this moment to drop from his own elbow, lying on his back to stare at the shadows of the ceiling.
He knew she could hear his honesty, could see it in the lines of his face. Her words would mean the world to Damian, not that either would ever admit it. Convincing Damian that he deserved Dick’s love, that he could expect and rely on that love was one of Dick’s greatest accomplishments.
Dick knew, however, he knew, even as he couldn’t quite stop it, that Damian sometimes considered that love an aberration. Considered Dick’s ability to relentlessly and endlessly love Damian something unique to Dick and Dick alone. Steph’s words themselves mattered, yes, but the fact that she spoke for Damian, that she understood and defended Damian, unprompted? That mattered a great deal more.
Still, Dick didn’t tell her that. He considered it, sure, but, ultimately, didn’t think it was quite his place. Not when they seemed to communicating well enough without him. Besides, there were other words that Steph probably needed to hear, more.
So he lunged. Steph shrieked in surprised as Dick flipped up and over, caging her in his arms and returning them to the position they’d woken up in with her curled tightly to his chest. Dick wrapped his arms lightly around her head, throwing a leg over her own in a hold they both knew she could easily break.
“Thank you for defending me,” he murmured into her hair.
Her hands both grasped the loose sleep shirt he wore, one over his stomach and the other his heart.
“I wouldn’t have. You didn’t share anything they couldn’t or shouldn’t know. Nothing they wouldn’t have found if they looked.” Even giving away Nightwing. “The Rapunzel code isn’t a secret. These are the kind of reasons it exits. You didn’t the right thing in calling it, in getting me and Damian out of there. You are a magnificent Batgirl, my magnificent Batgirl.”
Dick tightened his arms, just slightly.
“And, more importantly, my magnificent little sister. I adore you.”
Because this was the part that terrified him, that played through his mind about all his siblings when he was exposed to a particular strain of fear toxin, when his mind took a particular bend after a collection of bad nights.
His siblings all knew he loved them. He’d worked very hard to make sure they knew he loved them. Love, however, wasn’t always enough, just like the masks weren’t always enough. Like they were more than their names and their vigilante personas. You could still love someone and hurt them. You could still love someone, go to the ends of the earth (and beyond) to protect them, and still have them resent you because you hadn’t listened to or understood them at all.
Dick loved his siblings, but he also admired and liked and cherished them.
He wanted to make sure Steph knew that. That he wasn’t mad because of anything she revealed, even if he wasn’t exactly happy about the actual revelation or the conversations that would be coming. Dick understood she’d done it for him, for Dick, and not just for her Batman.
And he adored her for that.
“You’re okay, too, I guess.” Her words were quiet, but Dick still heard them.
More importantly, he could feel them. Steph’s shoulders shook slightly under his arms, her fingers tightening in his shirt.
Dick closed his eyes after a minute, giving her those 5 minutes she’d originally asked for gladly. They were a very relaxing five minutes, protected by the warmth of the purple flower-patterned comforter Steph had insisted was perfect for him and the hibiscus scent of her shampoo.
“Okay,” she said after those minutes were up, proving once again she was the bravest of them all by not even attempting to try and hide her red eyes and stained cheeks. “Time for breakfast, Sunshine.”
Dick hummed his agreement, studying the slant of light from the door as Steph got up from the bed. It was defiantly more like lunch time.
He caught her hand as she went to walk by him.
“I love you, you know?” Because it never hurt to make sure.
“Course, you doofus.” She sighed but smiled as she did so. “Love you, too.”
She pulled away and backed up with a slight blush of embarrassment, spinning so that her hair swung around and batted at Dick’s wrists as she linked her hands behind her back and started towards the door again. He smiled, softly, and went to follow.
Unfortunately, his body chose to remind him that no large scale injuries didn’t mean his entirely human body hadn’t been battered to hell and back by large, metal, strong as fuck robots the night before.
He staggered. He would have caught himself before hitting the floor - the bed was right there - but Steph caught him instead.
“Come on, old man. Let’s get some food in that rag and bones body of yours.”
Dick thew his arm around her shoulder, laughing softly as her own arms settled around his lower back. “Yeah, yeah. Lend me your young frame as a helpful crutch, then, o’boisterous youth.”
They’d almost made it to the door when Steph stopped, not looking up at him exactly, though Dick thought he could see flashes of her eyes under blond bangs.
“Is there something else I can help with?”
Dick knew she wasn’t asking so much about something else as something specific. Some trigger or fight or flashback that had made yesterday worse, had made his protective instincts stronger.
Dick let the pause linger for a moment before sinking into her hold more. Steph accepted the additional weight easily.
“Just tired, Stephie,” Dick admitted and, because she was his Batgirl and his sister, Steph understood this as truth and not a brushoff.
“Okay.” She continued helping him through the door and down the hallway.
They stopped when they reached the main room, a large open space that contained a living room and kitchen both. Steph, bless her, knew that Dick needed a moment to suppress the coo that was building in his throat.
Alfred was, naturally, cooking up a storm. This wasn’t a surprise, both because the man kept his promises and because the scent of baked goods and some kind of stew had permeated the entire penthouse with warmth and a hint of spice.
The surprise was Damian, not his presence or even Alfred the cat cradled in arm, but the way he had the other arm extended out to Babs. Babs hadn’t been here when they went to bed last night, but even her presence wasn’t what made the picture so surprising or coo-worthy.
That fell to the fact that Damian was in an over-sized Nightwing hoodie that Dick had never seen. Maybe it belonged to one of the girls? The hoodie was long enough on Damian’s frame that it looked more like a dress and, to top everything off, he was actually allowing Babs to sharply and precisely roll up the sleeve. Probably so he didn’t have to put Alfred the cat down.
Regardless of reason, the whole scene was adorable. A fact that Damian was perfectly aware of, if his blush was to go by. He reacted to realizing Dick was watching in typical Damian fashion: lecturing.
“Richard, I will be severely disappointed if you have been hiding injuries.”
Damian followed this up by coming to Dick’s side and attempting to provide additional support. Physically, this gesture didn’t really work because Damian was still itty-bitty and perfectly hug sized. Emotionally, Dick heart was as wam as Alfred’s stew.
Dick looked to Babs for a moment, hoping to convey with his eyes how very much he deserved a medal for continuing to hold in the coo. She rolled her eyes, but also subtly held up her phone in a way that meant she was both taking a photo and sending it to him immediately.
Dick beamed and Damian immediately grew suspicious. Alfred the cat mewed in confirmation from Damian’s other arm.
Dick ran his hand through Damian’s short hair before settling it on the kid’s shoulder, still leaning his weight predominantly on Steph, but letting Damian lead him to the couch. He was deposited next to Babs with a pointed look from Steph, who went off, presumably, to get food from Alfred. Babs was settled in the corned of the couch, her legs covered with a bright violet blanket and wheelchair tucked to the side.
Damian settled in front of Dick, putting both his hands on his hips after Alfred the cat decided to jump onto Dick’s lap and start purring. This was appreciated much more after the initial wave of pain passed. Alfred the cat was very soft, but he’d still landed on several bruises with a lot of force in his tiny paws.
Damian, naturally, caught the wince.
“Just general soreness, Dami. The Nightwing suit doesn’t have the armour my Batsuit does and I was pulling more Batman-style moves on those very heavy robots yesterday. I think my bruises have bruises.”
Damian’s gaze narrowed, but he nodded slightly after a moment. He opened his mouth but was interrupted by Alfred the human’s soft laugh and Steph’s louder cackle.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make sure I get at least a small bowl of cereal?” Dick mainly asked to see Damian scowl. It was a fond scowl.
Dick still didn’t release the coo, but he did reach out to brush down the Nightwing hoodie’s zipper and adjust the collar.
Damian huffed but allowed the gesture and even went to comply with the request.
Babs let out her own laugh when Dick collapsed onto her shoulder.
“Heard you had a rough night, Boy Wonder.”
Dick sunk further into the feeling of her arm wrapping around him and her hand slipping into his hair. Her fingers had different callouses than they used to, but the pressure was the same.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Hm. Rapunzel Code means you don’t have to worry about it until tomorrow at the absolute earliest. I’m thinking the day, after, to be honest, with the way the kids are circling like protective little gargoyles.”
Dick huffed before angling his head to look at her, a silent question in his eyes.
She scrunched up her nose, before bopping him light on his own. “Just wanted to check up on you lot.”
It was answer, though not an entirely complete one. She definitely did want to check up on them, and him in particular. She’d known he was approaching a breaking point, Dick was sure. Babs had been adamantly encouraging him to stay longer at the clocktower or crash in her apartment, lately.
She was also declaring her loyalty with this visit, by locking herself away with them in Rapunzel’s penthouse tower. This wasn’t the same as choosing a side, exactly, because this was not something that would have sides or split his family, but it was significant.
Oracle was the support to each and every Bat. She helped wherever she could, whomever she could, and was usually impartial in family matters unless there was the chance to be pettiness, fun, and blackmail. By being here with Dick and the kids, however, she was declaring Oracle’s help off limits. She was promising, without saying a word or letting anyone ask, that any research or communication to be done would be up to the individual. She would do no spying or digging or explaining
Dick loved her for it.
He looked away, smiling as Damian carried in the tray of food he clearly thought he’d won off Steph, and Steph clearly thought she’d pawned off on Damian. His smile stayed as they ate and Damian leaned into Dick’s side. It possibly grew when Steph claimed another blanket and the nearby love seat and definitely did when Alfred let some of the kitchen clean up wait and joined them in an over-stuffed armchair.
Dick didn’t make it halfway through the documentary on wombats before falling asleep. They credits were rolling on a what appeared to be another documentary featuring somewhere cold and icy when he was awoken by a clatter. Babs’s fingers in his hair assured him it wasn’t an emergency, particularly when she felt him awaken and pressed his shoulder firmly enough to know he didn’t have to get off her lap, which he’d been using as a pillow.
“Problem?” He asked after taking the moment to ensure he was, properly awake.
“Nope.” He could tell there was a smile in her voice even without opening his eyes. “Someone dropped something in the kitchen.”
Dick opened his eyes at that, leveraging himself partially up so he could look over the back of the couch. Alfred would never drop something in the kitchen.
Steph definitely would, however, and she was laughing and apologizing as Damian chased after Alfred the cat so he wouldn’t get floury footprints everywhere. Alfred the human gave a fond sigh before directing them back to the baking task at hand.
Dick lay back down before they noticed him watching, trusting the tumbling jazz music Alfred had playing from the speakers in the kitchen to cover his quiet conversation with Babs. “Cookies?”
“Butterscotch,” she agreed, smirking when his smiled softened. He loved butterscotch cookies.
Her hand returned to his hair and her attention wandered back to her phone. This wasn’t exactly unusual, since Babs was by nature very online. Still, she hand’t made a snarky comment about his nap or a genuine one checking in on him.
“Problem?” Dick repeated.
The silence that answered him was a rather affirmative answer.
He went to sit up but Babs stopped him this time, her hand gently on his chest, fingertips brushing against his throat. He looked up at her, staying the lines of her face, clearly visible since her hair was loosely tied back with one of Steph’s cartoon hero scrunchies. This one had Wonder Woman posed between scrunches.
“No. Not really, I don’t think. But something you should know.”
“Okay,” Dick told her, settling back onto her lap more fully as her hand brushed across his cheek and settled over his eyes, covering them.
“The others found the letters you wrote as Batman. The ones Damian collected and hid.”
Dick blinked, his eyelashes brushing against his palm. He took a deep breath, the scent of melting butterscotch slowly mixing with the cinnamon spice that had apparently been coming from a scented candle and not Alfred’s lunch stew.
He disagreed with Babs’s assessment. That was definitely a problem. Damian would be hurt those letters had been found. He’d been so proud to be trusted with them, though that conversation had all happened in subtext and gestures.
Babs had been the one to explain the letters to Damian, though the boy had been the one to choose to keep them. She’d also been the one to tell Dick about the boy’s collection and get his confirmation that Dick didn’t mind the situation.
Dick had been planning to toss them out or potentially light them on fire, but he hadn’t thought them particularly incriminating, so he really didn’t mind. Particularly when it had seemed like such a milestone at the time. Damian had listened to Babs about something that wasn’t the mission. He’d chosen to protect something of Dick’s and maintain his privacy by not reading the letters, searching for some advantage or blackmail. Damian and Steph had even bonded a bit because she’d been the one to suggest storing them in the box that had used to hold Damian’s special I-am-not-homesick-tea.
Dick hadn’t cried when he’d overhead their conversation and the way they were trying to protect him. He hadn’t.
“I don’t, I don’t really remember what was in those letters,” he admitted to Babs. He wasn’t even sure they were letters, not really. He remembered writing them when he was bogged down as Batman, struggling under the weight of kevlar and armour and finding it hard to remember how to fly.
So the letters had been more like notes, he was pretty sure. Bits of things he thought they’d enjoy about cases and his day, bullet point lists of things he’d always wanted to tell them, just as likely to be a comment about a suit idea or new move as a heartfelt secret. Dick had missed his family. He wanted to have the big talks and moments and apologies with them, yes, but he’d also wanted all the little things. All the little moments that came from them being his family and not just his vigilante partners.
Babs hesitated, which was unusual, except not, because it was just her and him. They’d been doing this crazy fucking thing together since they were children, made things up as they went along with reckless bravado, desperate heart, and all the hesitation that came from caring too much and knowing you were doing something important.
It had cost them both; they’d both borne witness to each other’s worst moments and deepest scars. They’d also never turned away, not for long. Not from vigilantism and not from each other. Hesitation wasn’t shameful in front of someone who knew intimately that you’d chosen to fight over an over again, even as your home, your body, your family was taken and taken and taken from you.
“Do you want to?” Babs lifted the hand over his eyes and put down her phone, which Dick now realized was actually his phone.
She reached over to her wheel chair and pulled out one of the plain white envelopes Dick had used to collect all those notes he’d written for her, under the shadowed glare of an empty cave. It wasn’t as full as he knew some of the others had been. Then again, she’d been in Gotham, been in theoretical reach, for all that they’d both been running ragged and pulled in a hundred different directions.
“Not really,” Dick replied. Long notes from a distant saxophone almost covered his words.
She titled her head before tracing the edges of the envelope on her hands. Dick watched her, watched the envelope float over his head since he was still using her leg as a pillow.
“How long have you had it?”
“Since always. Damian let Steph and I take ours before locking the box away from us.”
Dick actually knew that about Steph’s. He’d known Steph had found hers, because she’d brought it to him and they’d read through it together. She’d laughed at him and yelled at him and hit him in the head with the envelope. She’d also let him help her completely redesign her suit and started texting him pictures of gargoyles around campus, captioned with the names of the people irritating in classes. He hadn’t needed to write her notes after that.
Dick looked at Babs and then again at the envelope.
“You haven’t opened it.”
“No,” Babs agreed.
“Do you want to?” Dick echoed.
Babs thought about it. Dick had always appreciated how much weight she gave to his questions. She never demanded he have answers instead.
“Anything in there you haven’t already told me?”
Dick thought about it.
Babs had been his first real, human friend. He’d spent years of teenagerdom telling her everything and everything. Not at first, when he’d just been the younger classmate with a ton of Bat-shaped secrets, but after she’d put on her first cowl? The dam had opened and both of them had found a confidant. Made a confidant, more like. It had been easy, loving Babs, but trusting her with everything? With all of the dirt and the blood and the parts that neither of them wanted to show Bruce or Gordon or the adults that could stop them? That took time and deliberate effort.
Dick rather thought the deliberate effort had been what saved them, to be honest. They both wanted a friend so much, the friend they knew the other could be, that they’d put in the work. So when their friendship had been stretched or damaged to any extent, by Dick leaving for the Titans, or Jay’s death and Bruce’s falling apart, or Babs’s spinal damage, or Dick’s sudden tenure as Batman, they’d had that backbone of effort and care and respect.
Dick didn’t tell Babs everything, but he’d told her the things that mattered over and over again.
“Have I told you that I love you?”
“Repeatedly, yes.”
“Then no, probably not.”
She kept eye contact as leaned over once again, this time to the scented candle flickering on the table, the one Steph had insisted was calming. The letter burned easily, quickly, creating shadows of smoke as the paper was eaten by the light.
He reached up and tugged gently on one of the strands of hair escaping her bun. She swatted his hand away but didn’t push him of her lap.
“What’s burning?” Steph was carrying the food in this time.
“Master Dick,” Alfred chided, carrying four small plates in after her.
“It was Babs!” Dick didn’t hesitate to sell her out. That’s what best friends were for, after all.
“You were complicit,” she stated, crossing her arms above his head.
“That is usually the case,” Alfred agreed, giving them both a look that they’d been getting since they were teens testing weapons they shouldn’t have had access to in the cave.
Dick didn’t need to look at Babs to know they were giving matching smirks. Steph’s laugh did provide additional confirmation.
Dick’s smirk fell when he noticed Damian trailing in behind Alfred. Dick sat up, eyes immediately going to how tense his Baby Bat’s shoulders were.
“I am sorry, Richard.” Damian said the moment Dick was up their gazes met.
Dick hummed in acknowledgement because he’s been paying attention the last few months was very proud of Dami’s increasing capacity for genuine apologies. Dick also knew that the kid hadn’t quite mastered the timing of apologies, occasionally apologizing for things that were absolutely not his fault and not for things that rather were.
“It appears that Drake-” ooh boy, they were back to last names “-retrieved your letters from my care. I should not have removed them from their original location. Moving them to the cave was sentimental and clearly shows a flaw in my risk assessment-”
“Come here,” Dick interrupted. It was always a calculated move, interrupting Damian. He hated interruptions with a passion. He was also eleven and had a habit of getting in his own head.
This time, Damian complied, walking right over to where Dick was seated on the couch despite fully knowing what what likely to happen next. Dick reached out slowly, still giving time for Damian to step away, and pulled the kid into a hug. When small arms reached back, Dick ducked down slightly and pulled the kid into his lap.
Damian barely squawked at all.
“I love you,” Dick told him. “To absolute pieces. I’d love you if you were actually incompetent. I love you and any mistakes you make. I love that you decided my words and notes and letters were something worth protecting.”
Dick paused a moment, and then shifted, draping himself over Damian in less of a hug and more of a lean. He rested his chin on Damian’s head and smiled at the resulting huff, even as Damian leaned back into Dick, releasing tension slowly.
The kid mumbled something about Dick being a sentimental idiot and Dick responded by kissing his hair.
Alfred smiled at them, softly and mostly with his eyes. Babs rescued his phone from the arm of the couch where Steph now sat, eating a cooking and leaning into her shoulder.
Dick did feel like a sentimental idiot, was the thing. He loved these people so much, including the ones that weren’t here at the moment. Including the ones he hurt last night.
He knew, now that he’s had some actual sleep and food and hugs, that the hurt wasn’t entirely his fault. He certainly hadn’t intended to hurt.
That didn’t mean Jay’s eyes weren’t embedded into Dick’s brain, blue without the slightest glow as Dick flinched back and drags the kids with him. That didn’t mean he wanted Tim to find out about the Tim-sized Nightwing suit like that, like a blow to an argument and conversation they’d both thought finished. Nor did it mean he wanted to put Cass and Duke in the middle of something they hadn’t started and couldn’t possibly finish, even if they wanted to.
Dick was so tired of hurting his father, regardless if from an exchange of blows or arguments or something else entirely.
The letters were a bit of a risk, perhaps. One Bruce and most of the others probably wouldn’t take, particularly going off half-drowned memories of what he thinks h might have written down.
Sure, there were things he hadn’t told his siblings. Memories and injuries and missions that he would die protecting them from, if he could. But these weren’t diary entires they’d found, nor anything similar, really.
There was nothing in there that he hadn’t want them to know, at some point. That was the point of them, even if he’d never been planning to send them. Sure, the letters for those who’d been away might have more of the heartfelt secrets than the the letters of those who’d actually been in Gotham with him. There might even be some complaints and some venting and some things written when he missed them so much he felt physically sick.
But that was really the deciding factor, wasn’t it? He’d loved them then, as he missed them. He loved them now, as they were alive and here an able to read the words that were, ultimately, for them.
Dick let out a breath into Damian’s hair, causing him to raise an imperious eyebrow. Dick ignored the eyebrow in order to reach out. Babs put his phone in his palm.
He went to open the family chat and realized there was a surprising lack of messages. Cass was the only one to have reached out in the aftermath of yesterday. Dick smiled, because that was kind of typical. The rest knew he was safe with Steph, Dami, and Alfred so were probably operating on a sliding scale from letting Dick take the time he needed and getting too damn stuck in their own heads.
Private: Dick & Cass
Cass: Found letters in Dami’s special box.
Cass: Please read mine?
Dick: Yes, you can read it.
Dick: Thanks for checking, Cassie.
Too Many Bats in a Basket
Dick: You can read them.
Dick: They’re more collections of ideas and notes than letters.
Dick: Never meant to be sent.
Dick: But the words were and are always yours.
Dick: Love you.
Damian turned dark eyes to Dick after reading as he typed. Babs had also read over his shoulder while Steph and even Alfred had their phones out, clearly reading the message.
Alfred was the one to turn to Dick and ask, “Are you sure, my boy?”
Dick nodded, no hesitation.
“Nothing’s in there that I haven’t already told them, one way or another.” Babs bumped his shoulder. “Maybe not in the details or in those exact words, but, well, the sentiments the same. Right Dami?”
Dami grumbled, but ultimately confirmed. “You are certainly an insufferable, sentimental idiot, Richard.”
Dick laughed, Steph reaching around Babs to wrap her own arm around his shoulder. “Aint that the truth. What’s next for this Rapunzel Code, Big Bird?”
Dick threw his phone face down on the table, next to the candle. “Another documentary. I’ll try to stay awake for this one, promise. Now, who’s hoarding the cookies? I know you didn’t make my favourite only to eat them all in front of me.”
Steph and Damian actually looked at each other, the brats, but did both produce a cookie for him.
He still didn’t get to choose the next documentary, but that was fine. He didn’t really care as long as the moment kept its warm butterscotch flavour.