If anything good can be said to come of this, it’s that Damian will be away from the manor when Brown makes her weekly visit.
“What are you doing here?”
Todd looks terrible, his hair in shambles, face a blotchy mess. Damian’s sure those are the same clothes he was wearing when he was at the manor last, complaining of a sore throat and dismissing the cough as ‘nothing to worry your pretty little heads about’.
Damian feels his lip curl, Natural reflex when faced with foolish questions and unrelenting stupidity. And, perhaps, also when dealing with Todd in particular.
“Pennyworth requested someone check to see if you had passed on yet.”
“What’s with the Tupperware?” Todd asks, stepping back to let Damian into the hovel he calls a home.
“Soup to celebrate your passing,” Damian says, headed for the kitchen.
Clearly Todd is incapable of taking care of himself, and as no one else is there to do it, Damian will have to see to it himself. That’s all.
“Right,” Todd says, following him into the cramped kitchen. “You have any plans for it, seeing as I’m still alive?”
“I could throw it at you,” Damian offers.
Tod’s reflexes are obviously dulled by illness and the container is certainly heavy enough to do damage.
Todd smiles, like he thinks it’s amusing. “Pots are in the drawer by the stove,” he says, and takes a seat at the kitchen table.
Damian very carefully sets the soup container down and rifles through the deep drawer by the stove. There are several pots and lids along with condiment packets from take-out places. “You’re disgusting,” he says, selecting a medium sized pot with matching lid.
Todd shrugs, slumping in his seat. Clearly drained by his lingering illness and refusing to let it show more than necessary. “I’m a bachelor,” he says, as if that’s an excuse.
Damian snorts, and sets about heating the soup up as per Pennyworth’s instructions. Todd directs him to the cabinet with the dishes and he find the silverware drawer on his own, and pauses.
“These are from the manor.”
“Yeah,” Todd says, with a smile on his face. “Back when I first started going to the manor regularly. Bruce kept giving me these looks like he thought I was after the good silverware.”
“…So you took it,” Damian says, more statement than question with the proof in front of his face.
“Totally worth it for the look on his face when he realized,” Todd affirms.
Damian looks at Todd, insufferably smug and pleased with himself, but there’s a hint of something else. Wistfulness, perhaps?
Whatever it was Todd had seen on Fathers’ face, it was not suspicion, of that Damian is sure. Disbelief, perhaps, that Todd had been there at all. Choosing to recognize them as people he did not find completely intolerable. (Family, a thing Damian has issues with even now, years later.)
“You’re a fool,” Damian says, setting a bowl of soup in front of Todd. He places a spoon, silver with intricate designs engraved on the handle, next to it.
Another shrug, smile fading slightly. “No more than the rest of us, brat.”