There was dirt under Leto's fingernails. The sight struck him as odd for Leto had never seemed the type to get himself in a mess. Messes involved cleaning and cleaning involved water and Leto's aversion towards water was well known now (even if Leto acted like it was the world's best kept secret. Dick let him because it was funny and it made for good blackmail material when Leto was being dumb. Leto had things on him too but he never needed to use it. His calm, sensible voice lured Dick back to shore, red-face and shameful under the sun and Leto's laughter lulled him back to calm)
There was dirt under Leto's fingernails and it was fascinating. He poked Leto's side (habit. It's not like Leto noticed. It takes him three seconds to realize and fake a reaction) and asked him about it.
Leto laughed in his soft way, like clouds settling over old mountains and said he was tending the garden. Dick pointed out that Leto and water didn't get along.
That's not a reason at all, Leto replied. Gardens must be tended.
Dick didn't understand but he tried to imagine what it must be like in a desert planet, with no green and blue, just hazes of burnished gold and harsh yellow landscapes and nodded in agreement.
What he didn't expect is the zeal Leto has toward the garden. Each plant is lovingly tended and grafted, petted and nurtured, with words and warm hands. Dick didn't like it at first, but Leto waved off his frowns and forced him to be a part of the process. It was hard, being delicate. It was one thing to treat his own life like a highwire and another to have someone else's in his hands.
He said quietly, wonderingly, to himself, Batman probably feels like this.
Leto replied, Batman doesn't have your heart, and Dick considered protesting but he had seeds to plant.