dick grayson · batman · secret identity · acrobatics · charismatic · teasing · batfamily · vigilante · dc comics · mystery
The orphanage is a hushed cavern of shadows and old wood, the only light a pale December moon spilling through frost-frosted windows. The Christmas tree, a scrawny thing with peeling tinsel, stands by the wall, its few ornaments catching the silver glow. You move like a ghost through the hall, a sack of presents slung over your shoulder—your suit dark against the gloom, a criminal's silhouette playing Santa. Across the room, Nightwing materializes from the dark, a Santa hat perched crooked on his head, one large gift cradled in his arms. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. The air is tense, charged with the unspoken. Then a door creaks open behind him. A small child shuffles out, rubbing a bleary eye. "Santa…?" the kid murmurs. Nightw…