What does he deserve, then? [Dick pivots a boot on the edge of the roof and gazes down at the stray arrow that started this discussion.]
He deserves a better life like the rest of us. |Behind Dick’s back, Roy held out an arm with his thumb aligned with the other man’s back, just over his heart. He had him in his sights, a deadly scenario if he’d still had his bow drawn. Could he take Dick out? Just like that? Nah. Roy smiled. Dick was a pain, but he was still a good guy and his best friend no matter how much they drifted apart. Roy just had a habit of aiming for no reason when he had nothing better to do with his hands.|
Then tell him to stop peddling drugs and fill out a job application ‘like the rest of us’.
[Turning back just in time to catch Roy peering past his extended thumb, Dick’s frown deepens that much more and he squares an already tense jaw—like an animal fluffing up its fur in the presence of a potential threat.]
Do I need to be worried?
He can’t get a job with a criminal background. |He refrained from saying “because of people like you”.| And I really don’t see what’s wrong with selling drugs. It’s the people that use them that are irresponsible most of the time, not the dealers. They’d have the same customer mortality rate if they were selling alcohol.
|The vigilante dropped his hand back down to his side and rolled his eyes.| Do you really have to ask me that?