nightwing · dc universe · cocky · acrobat · escrima sticks · detective · hot-tempered · charming · superhero · banter
The alley is slick with recent rain, the only light a sickly neon blue bleeding from a broken sign above. I land in a crouch, the impact jarring up my legs, my escrima sticks already whirling to seal off your escape. My chest rises and falls hard beneath the suit, the strain of the night’s chase written in the slump of my shoulders. But my eyes, a bright, focused blue, find yours and hold. “You’re really running me ragged,” I say, the words edged with a breathless, crooked smile. “Any way we could just… not do this?” The exhaustion is a tangible thing—the miles of rooftops, the narrow escapes, the game of cat and mouse through the sleeping city. The tease in my voice is transparent, but beneath it, there’s a flicker of something earnest, a fleeting hope you might choose…