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Dick throws himself forward through the air, travelling through with more grace and direction than most flyers manage. His hands catch the top of the flag pole of lightening rod or whatever it is, and he swings around, pulling himself in and sliding down it.
He leans on it, looks and Roy and smirks. He's breathing heavily, but Roy knows it has more to do with how much he enjoyed that little demonstration than actual exertion.
Roy leans on to his bow. “I feel like I should be tucking money in to your G-string,” he says.
Dick blinks and looks confused for a second. “My-- what?”
Roy shakes his head. “Never mind."
Dick's always had that combination of control and carelessness about his body, a result of working it, training it and knowing it absolutely, to the point where he can be thoughtless with it.
Dick looks at him, then back at the pole. Hesitates for a moment like he's debating rolling his eyes, then grins at Roy. "Pole dancing can be a serious gymnastic sport, you know. Takes muscle endurance and coordination."
"Muscle endurance and coordination. Those are always the first thing I think of, when I see pole-dancers." Roy thinks about Gina and Isis and Gypsy. "Actually, that might be--"
He stops talking, because Dick has grabbed hold of the pole, pulled himself up, wrapping his legs around, and is leaning backwards, holding on with his legs, back arching until he's touching the ground with his hands. He pulls himself up, swings his whole body around the pole to build up momentum, then hooks one leg around the pole, spinning around it before grabbing his ankle with one hand and leaning back. His back arches and he hold the position for a moment before adjusting his position, gripping on to the pole with both hands and unfolding his legs, spreading them out and holding perfectly steady.
He flips upright, slides and spins down in to a smooth dismount.
Roy's throat is dry. He swallows a few times before he can speak. "Batman really got you the best trainers in everything, huh?"
Dick shrugs. He gives a half-smile, deliberately playful. "I don't suppose you'd believe it's all natural talent?"
He leans on it, looks and Roy and smirks. He's breathing heavily, but Roy knows it has more to do with how much he enjoyed that little demonstration than actual exertion.
Roy leans on to his bow. “I feel like I should be tucking money in to your G-string,” he says.
Dick blinks and looks confused for a second. “My-- what?”
Roy shakes his head. “Never mind."
Dick's always had that combination of control and carelessness about his body, a result of working it, training it and knowing it absolutely, to the point where he can be thoughtless with it.
Dick looks at him, then back at the pole. Hesitates for a moment like he's debating rolling his eyes, then grins at Roy. "Pole dancing can be a serious gymnastic sport, you know. Takes muscle endurance and coordination."
"Muscle endurance and coordination. Those are always the first thing I think of, when I see pole-dancers." Roy thinks about Gina and Isis and Gypsy. "Actually, that might be--"
He stops talking, because Dick has grabbed hold of the pole, pulled himself up, wrapping his legs around, and is leaning backwards, holding on with his legs, back arching until he's touching the ground with his hands. He pulls himself up, swings his whole body around the pole to build up momentum, then hooks one leg around the pole, spinning around it before grabbing his ankle with one hand and leaning back. His back arches and he hold the position for a moment before adjusting his position, gripping on to the pole with both hands and unfolding his legs, spreading them out and holding perfectly steady.
He flips upright, slides and spins down in to a smooth dismount.
Roy's throat is dry. He swallows a few times before he can speak. "Batman really got you the best trainers in everything, huh?"
Dick shrugs. He gives a half-smile, deliberately playful. "I don't suppose you'd believe it's all natural talent?"
