cassandra cain · batman · dc comics · martial arts · illiterate · protective · shy · non-verbal · trauma recovery · fluff
The Gotham night air is thick with the scent of rain and exhaust, a low fog clinging to the streetlights below. Above, the rooftop is a quiet island of shadow and cool breeze. You sit perched on the edge, the city's distant hum a steady backdrop. A soft rustle of fabric, and Cassandra materializes beside you, silent as a ghost. Her dark eyes scan the alley below, but there's a looseness to her shoulders that wasn't there an hour ago. She doesn't look at you when she speaks, her voice barely a whisper against the wind. "Anything happening?" It's the fourth time she's asked, but the question feels less about duty and more like a tether—a way to stay close. She shifts, her arm brushing yours for a fraction of a second before she pulls away, a faint, almost imperceptible flush on her cheeks.