Chapter Text
RECORDING ONE: CASSETTE TAPE
JASON: Hello? Is this thing on? Fuck— did Tim give me a faulty one?
DUKE: There’s something glowing. That should mean it’s recording.
JASON: Does it? Or does it mean it’s running out of battery.
[Moment of silence]
DUKE: Blinking red means recording, Idiot.
JASON: It can also mean battery!
[Ruffling sounds can be heard, and foot steps retreating from the recorder]
JASON: Where are you going Duke?
DUKE: Hold on!
[Footsteps retreating further, feedback coming from Jason moving the tape recorder in hands. Footsteps comes back, then a thud next to the recorder, more ruffling]
DUKE: The manual–see! It’s recording!
JASON: Oh fuck, we’ve been recording—ahh, wait can I start again?
DUKE: Why?
JASON: Because I sound like a fucking idiot! I don’t want the first tape to be me not realising I was recording this whole time.
DUKE: That’s funny.
[A smack sound]
DUKE: Ow!
JASON: It’s not.
DUKE: Why are we even using this old thing? Don’t we have digital recorders somewhere? Did Bruce beg you to use this instead?
JASON: Bruce didn’t beg me to do anything—he’s not the boss of me.
DUKE: Except for the part where he is—
JASON: He didn’t make me do anything. In fact, he doesn’t even know I have it. And I like to keep it that way, thanks.
DUKE: …You’ve like, not answered my question. At all.
JASON: I’m getting to it. I just needed to make sure that you didn’t think I was doing anything from the old man’s volition. Because I’m not.
DUKE: Right.
JASON: I mean, sure, he happened to have mentioned to my therapist “recording” as a coping mechanism for my apparently “toxic” emotional detachment and “anxious” attachment—which, by the way! Kettle calling the pot black! What does Bruce fucking “I only ever answer in ‘hm’ and nods” Wayne have anything to say about my alledged coping mechanisms. I mean, if anything, he’s the one who should be cataloguing a sorta podcast to give to his therapist. Not me!
DUKE:...somehow you’ve answered every question but the one I asked you.
JASON: Well, maybe I didn’t feel like answering it.
DUKE: Ah, I think I’m starting to understand.
JASON: You do?
DUKE: No. But I’m kinda tired of asking. By the way, you’re still recording dumbass.
JASON: Wait–Fuck, no, Duke how do I stop it?
DUKE: Don’t look at me.
JASON: I am looking at you because you’re the one with the manual!
DUKE: Again, why couldn’t you just use a digital one?
JASON: You don’t get it! It’s for the aesthetic.
DUKE: Aesthetic? Really?
JASON: It’s much cooler to hear it on a cassette tape player then to just listen to it on earbuds.
DUKE: Right.
JASON: And it means I can only ever use it when I’m in the Batcave.
DUKE: Isn’t that inconvenient? You know, since it’s suppose to chronicle your emotions at any given place and you’re not even ‘here’ here majority of the time.
JASON: I—oh.
DUKE: Oh? Jason…
JASON:...
DUKE: …You didn’t think of that, did you? Did you really just want to use a tape recorder?
JASON: …They’re kinda sick.
DUKE: Wow.
JASON: You don’t understand the art of the cassette tape!
DUKE: Said our forty year old dad .
[Verbal gag is heard]
JASON: You did not just compare me to Bruce like that.
DUKE: You both have a weird hobby for things before the 70s—
JASON: Cassette tapes are not that old—
DUKE: —which is surprising because you would think that Dick would be—
JASON: —they’re from the late 70s to early 80s! You know, just because the iPhone—
DUKE: —the oldie out of all of us but I guess he’s really not that into—
JASON: —was invented for you doesn’t mean you disrespect what came before and—-would you stop talking over me!
DUKE: —that sort of thing—No!
[Another smack was heard]
DUKE: Ow! My head!
[A pause]
[A deep sigh of frustration]
JASON: (muffled voice) What was the point of getting Timbo to get this stupid junk for me? This tape is useless now.
DUKE: Just use a digital one.
JASON: (clearer) But they’re so boring! I don’t want to just record all 'office professional' like. I want to have fun!
[Ruffling, someone standing up]
DUKE: The fun is in the company. Just ask someone to record with you.
JASON: Do you want to record with me?
[Pause]
DUKE: Ask someone else to record with you.
[A groan from Jason]
JASON: Come on! Please!
[A laugh from Duke]
DUKE: No can do, you’re on your own.
JASON: But you just said—
DUKE: Do what I say not what I do.
JASON: Don’t make me ask Dick. Please.
DUKE: …
JASON: You’re evil!
[Footsteps moving away, more laugther]
DUKE: Good luck, Todd.
JASON: Evil! A curse on both your houses, evil!
[Footsteps dimmer away]
DUKE: (faint) Bye!
[ruffling, annoyed grumbled muttering.]
JASON: (muttered) Asshole.
[More ruffling, feedback from fidgeting with recorder, frustrated grunts, more fidgeting, a small smack on floor, ruffling of manual, sounds from being picked up, more frustrated grunts, faint footsteps approaching]
[A pause]
[More ruffling, a slight laugh from slightly far away, a jolt sound of surprise]
DUKE: (faint) The red button is the off button in case you didn’t know.
[A scoff]
JASON: Of course I fucking knew that, I’m not an idiot.
[Ruffling from being pick up]
DUKE: (muddled) Right. Of course, just wanted to—
END OF RECORDING