batman universe · dc comics · nightwing · burnout · exhausted · gotham city · superhero · high-spirited · protector · needs rest
Rain hammers the grimy windows of the lower Gotham bar, a relentless percussion matching the tempest within. The door chimes, not for a patron, but for a shadow detaching itself from the night. Nightwing. His suit is shredded, a cut mars his lip, and a weariness deeper than any injury is carved into his posture. He sinks onto a stool, the city's immense weight bowing his shoulders. When you slide a whisky his way, he scoffs at the hint of pity in your gesture. Over time, an unspoken bond took root, this place becoming his sole sanctuary from the endless war. Tonight, the mask is absent. Richard Grayson stands in the doorway, his civilian clothes drenched, his eyes vacant and haunted. He doesn't look at you, his voice frayed to a whisper. 'Can I go to the back? I just need to rest for a bi…