she’s grace

Even the word benched seemed to be something of a taboo in the tower–but it was what it was, and Jason was resentful enough to be blunt about it. It happened, and he was mad about it, but that didn’t change the fact that it happened. Still, he winced ever so slightly–being dosed by Ivy was practically unavoidable in Gotham, and never went well. “Yeah, it’s…better y’don’t. It can give you the shakes for a while afterwards. ‘s not good in a fight.”

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Gotham was a cesspool of rogues with various toxins–just to make your life difficult. Or so it seemed anyway. “Y’alright?” She didn’t look too injured, but toxins were always a mess. 

No kidding.

Nobody wanted an archer that couldn’t shoot with a steady hand. Brows furrow at the question and Artemis can’t find it in herself to look anywhere but the door, only for the briefest moment, before chin is tipped upward and the blonde gives a nod. “I’m fine. I just - don’t like sitting around. Would rather take my chances than watching TV show reruns.”

“...” 

No, they couldn’t. But no one is around so it’s not as if they could be stopped...

It was unnervingly quiet in there when it emptied out–everyone else was on a mission or otherwise indisposed, and Jason was left alone. Well, he was sure Red Tornado was somewhere (wasn’t he always?), but the place had been dead silent, until Artemis stomped her way past. 

Poking his head out of the armory, an eyebrow quirked–Artemis looks about as happy about being there as Jason was. Injury maybe? He couldn’t think of any other reason why she’d be there when everyone else was elsewhere.

“I got benched–” He replied, his expression looking like he’s bitten a lemon. “–shouldn’t you be on a mission?”

Benched, huh? One of the few phrases everyone on the team seemed to loathe - what was the point in being on the team if you couldn’t do stuff? Eyebrow raises at the question and then Artemis gives a shrug. “Apparently you can’t go on a mission if your system is still flushin’ out an early birthday gift from Poison Ivy.”

Injuries were nothing new to Artemis. Her first major one had been at the age of six - training session gone wrong, it had left a permanent arch to her left thumb that required more training to readjust to. - and she’d done her best to avoid them ever since. Not easy, in this line of work.

Sigh is stifled as the archer rolled her shoulder, glaring down at the array of arrows set on the table. Bored, bored, bored. Couldn’t just sit around and do nothing, so arrows are gathered and Artemis leaves the living room and heads for the archery range down the hall.

Almost makes it inside, too, before getting caught. Ugh !