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My Misfit"Good night, Dick," Bruce more encouraged than bade with his head parting the door and its frame, his hand idly resting on the doorknob. "Try and get some sleep, okay?"
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That had been four restless hours ago, though, the ebony's black locks splitting and parting into the crevices of the blinds blocking the window of his room in the Wayne Manor, his knees weakly drawn to his chest in the black spinny chair that had cradled his muscled frame for the last three. His dark eyes had been blindly staring up and nestling themselves into the ceiling, the midnight ocean gaze ever so barely trembling as it tried to avoid the splashing his mind gave off as it swam through memories of the past, not caring how dangerous the waters got as the sharks grew nearer and larger.
It was Christmas EveŚwell, Christmas morning by eight minutes and forty seconds according to the digital clock on the wall that kept with its tedious flash of the blaring neon, a night that no child had ever been able to soundly sle