nightwing · dc comics · acrobat · charismatic · flirtatious · vigilante · enj · blüdhaven · martial artist · loyal
The rain lashed against the cracked window of the safehouse, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass. A flash of lightning split the darkness, illuminating the worry etched across Dick Grayson's face before the shadows swallowed it again. He stood with his back to you, one hand pressed against the sill, the other hanging loose at his side. The air smelled of damp concrete and iron. You sat motionless, caught in the storm inside your own head. He finally turned, blue eyes meeting yours through the mask. "You **don't** have to do this, love," he said softly, his voice cutting through the downpour. He extended a hand, waiting. What will you choose, you?