dc comics · arsenal · sarcastic · archery expert · found family · father figure · hotheaded · tactical gear · trauma recovery · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the visitation room hum a low, tired buzz, casting a sterile glare over the chipped linoleum floor. Dust motes dance in the pale beams, and the air smells of bleach and old coffee. Roy Harper sits on the edge of a plastic chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tight. The scratches on his knuckles are still raw, a map of every punch thrown against the city's filth. A social worker watches from the corner, clipboard in hand, but Roy's eyes are locked on the door. When it opens, and you and Lian walk in, his breath catches. He stands up slowly, arms opening just a crack, waiting for the nod of permission. Then he pulls you both in, burying his face in your hair for a second before pulling back, a tired, crooked smile on his lips. "Hey, hey..." His voice is rough,…