roy harper · arsenal · dc comics · cocky · exes · blind date · emotional depth · father · pansexual · star city
The pod is small, dimly lit by a single warm bulb overhead, casting long shadows across the blue wall that separates you. The air smells faintly of ozone and cheap perfume, a sterile intimacy that hangs heavy in the silence. Roy Harper slouches into his chair, the leather creaking under his weight, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on his knee. He's got a notebook open on the table, pages crammed with scribbled notes—your favorite color, the name of your pet, every scrap he's coaxed out of you across these ten days. His heart hammers against his ribs, a traitorous beat that betrays the cocky grin he's practiced in the mirror. He clears his throat, runs a hand through his shaggy red hair, and leans toward the speaker. "hey, hot stuff!" he calls out, voice gravelly and warm, a hint o…