a born entertainer

( ✉ → boy wonder ): I’m sorry you feel threatened so easily, that must make things tough in your line of work. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): If that’s what you have to tell yourself while looking through Google Images for a full body photo of Batman then all right. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): Unfortunately, even with my connections, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do personally. What a shame. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): So sensitive today! I find it odd how defensive you’ve gotten considering how much I like nerds.

The murder of Uatu is something that firmly falls into the category of things that Rich specifically should be worried about–and beyond that, he feels like he owes it to his friend’s memory. The Watcher had always been an ally to the Nova Corps, had played a part in helping Sam free him from the Cancerverse, and had kept back so much more than Rich or the rest of the universe would probably ever know about. He deserved better than someone essentially sneaking up on him and taking his eye–and Rich knows enough about the workings of the galaxy to know that that kind of power in the wrong hands isn’t going to amount to anything good. The fact that he wakes up one morning with the sudden knowledge that Quicksilver was a member of the Brotherhood of Mutants, something he has no real reason to know, is proof enough of that. 

A visit to the moon doesn’t really reveal anything, but at the very least it gives the Worldmind something that it can work with–a faint trace of something that it can’t identify nessecarily, but might be able to track. It tells him that he should head back to Earth, back to the city–but he’s been working his way around for hours now, and it’s pretty much amounted to him chasing his tail in circles. Whoever is responsible is either something that the Worldmind, one of the most advanced supercomputers in the world, has never come across–or really good at covering their tracks. 

He decides to cut his losses and grab one of those enormous slices of greasy pizza that only New York City has to offer, review what he saw on the moon and consider what he might have missed–his intense concentration isn’t something that he really considers until he blinks his eyes a couple of minutes later and sees someone approaching him. “Sorry–I didn’t mean to stare. Been a weird couple of weeks.” It had been a weird couple of months, where Rich was concerned. Resurrection compounded with the mysteries of the cosmos. 

Being back in his own skin was an enormous relief. Dick had managed the entire time without causing a major disaster, and it was honestly some kind of miracle. He’d spent most of a day afterwards just getting used to being himself again, training until he felt at home in his own skin. Finally being out on patrol again that night had solidified the feeling that everything was right in the world again. Except, of course, that nothing was right, because he had no idea why he’d ended up inhabiting Rich’s body in the first place, or why they were back to normal all of a sudden. That bit was still very, very deeply concerning, and he was trying his best to keep it in the back of his mind but not dwell on it so much that he ended up stuck on a case with absolutely no leads to follow. He couldn’t say it was working very well.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, on the currently-unsolvable cases list, there was also the mysterious case of the ‘why do I know or care that one of the Avengers is secretly a terrorist?’ At first, he’d actually assumed that it was just something he’d read in a file somewhere, a little bit of intel that Bruce had picked up somewhere along the line. That was usually the way it went when the back of his brain supplied a little piece of information out of nowhere. It hadn’t been until he started hearing the same little detail getting talked about by other people that he realized it wasn’t just him. Which made two pieces of weirdness happening at about the same time, that he couldn’t explain and that he had absolutely no leads on. Could he assume they were connected? Or would that just mean that he ended up missing things because he was seeing a connection where none existed?

All of that was most of the reason he’d decided to go out for pizza. If he was going to be obsessive, he could at least be obsessive with cheese and marinara. That had to be an improvement, right? Naturally, he ended up picking the one pizza joint in New York that was perfectly designed to remind him of everything he was trying to not think about, because apparently Rich had had the same thought. Was there something about their little Trading Spaces moment that meant that they were thinking the same things now? And it was pretty obvious that he was having the same kind of trouble focusing on the here and now, because he’d made it halfway over with his slice before Rich even seemed to notice he was there. “I mean, I’m deeply offended, obviously, but willing to forgive. You seem a little...out of it.”

Scott had seen a lot of strange things over the years. The old saying went ‘welcome to the X-Men, hope you survive the experience,’ and while Scott maintained that it was only something said to scare the new students into line by their older classmates, he knew that there was some element of truth in it. After all, since he was sixteen years old he had been catapulting himself headfirst into situations that would have any sane person running in the other direction. The bodyswap was far from the most unusual occurrence he had seen, but the fact that it was occurring on earth so soon after the Watcher’s murder did prompt some questions, and made him more than a little uncomfortable.

Of course, the only reason that whoever it was would have caused a situation like that would’ve been to incite panic and confusion. In that vein, they had been successful. Scott was determined that he wouldn’t be weirded out by anything that happened, and a rogue agent on a rooftop certainly wasn’t going to make him break that. “How did you get stranded, then?” Scott asked, a little exasperated but hoping he was hiding it adequately, though he so rarely did. “You certainly sound like you know a lot about it, but I’m willing not to throw out a judgement right now.” After all, Scott knew more about how someone would go about supervillainy than most, and that was due to his close proximity over the years and not much else.

“I didn’t bring the other person. He was indisposed.” And currently on fire, if Jean’s messages were to be believed, and Scott had never doubted her before. “See, that makes everything make more sense automatically.” Scott’s entire persona then changed, and he uncrossed his arms, stepping towards the man slightly and looking at him for a long moment. “Have you just discovered these powers, or have you been swapped with someone else?” He seemed a little too old to suddenly have mutant powers manifesting, but Scott had seen any number of people fail to follow the mould. “Here we are,” he muttered. “Let’s see if I can help you out, if I can.”

This whole situation almost felt designed to go against everything Dick usually tried to do. He was so used to keeping secrets about who he was and what he did that a straightforward, honest explanation seemed...wrong, somehow. Maybe a little easier because it wasn’t actually his secret he was admitting to. Probably shouldn’t be, if he thought about it. Shouldn’t he really be working harder to keep this guy’s secrets? It was kind of too late for that now, though. The cat had pretty much been out of the bag the moment he was spotted, and apparently he was going to have to work on being stealthy while he was in somebody else’s body. Maybe that was the solution to his whole problem.

At least there was one thing he could still keep under wraps. This guy could find out that he was Dick Grayson without a problem, as long as he kept his other identity under wraps. Hopefully the explanation he’d given would be enough to satisfy the guy. Of course, there was the lock picking part, which he couldn’t exactly explain away with the whole new powers due to body swapping thing. Thankfully, he kind of had a built-in explanation, if being thankful for all the stereotypes that surrounded the way he’d grown up was actually the right word. At the moment, he was going to take any out he could get, though. “I’ll take the lack of judgement, with a side order of ‘I had an exciting childhood and learned a lot of interesting things.’ Thanks.”

“I do love to see a man who enjoys his work. Or is this more of a hobby? There’s your existential question for the night, I know your type loves thinking them over.” Felicia had to admit that she wasn’t entirely convinced that Nightwing did fit into the specific type that she had pegged out for him. He did seem to genuinely relish in his work, no hint of snark in his reply, and that made him different than those who came out and almost seemed to brood in it. Felicia hated brooding, it wasted good time that could be used helping people, or stealing things as her case may be. “Do average thieves manage to get a score like this, or a conversation that lasts as long? Damn, I really need to up my game. Clearly I’m losing my touch.”

Spidey was always going to be top of her list for interesting encounters, mostly because of their history, but learning how someone new would react to her less than legal activities was a fun game to play. “Oh, you’ve got me there,” Felicia replied, a grin coming onto her face. “If you wanted my number you’d have to buy me a drink first, darling. Or impress me otherwise, and that’s very hard to do.” Best buddies. Felicia laughed, moving slowly - but instinctively knowing that he would pick up on it immediately - to the grappling hook on her hip. “Sorry sweetie,” Felicia said. “I’d love to swap friendship bracelets, but I just don’t think you have anything comparable to offer me. Cuffs don’t have the same appeal as jewels, tragic as that is for you to hear.”

“You know how the saying is that crime doesn’t pay? Turns out vigilantism doesn’t either. So I don’t think it counts as a job,” Dick pointed out. The banter thing they had going was interesting, mostly because she hadn’t actually made a move yet. Maybe there was a chance to work this thing out without actually needing to fight her. That might be nice, because he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this conversation a little. There was something to be said for a good, honest fight, but if it wasn’t necessary, he’d just as soon avoid it. “I don’t know. Guess that depends on what you have in that pocket.” She’d been considerate enough to show him where she was keeping her stash, assuming she wasn’t lying. But he didn’t actually know what it was. “But I’ve always been the chatty kind. It’s just who I am.”

@not-aboywonder

“Yeah, you installed these completely wrong. Like, completely wrong.” Luke grins and rolls his eyes, spares a glance at Dick who’s leaning against the skeleton of his car like some kind of Abercrombie and Fitch model–Luke has often wondered if he’s aware of it, or if his body just holds itself like that without effort. “This is why I woke up last week and felt nauseous, isn’t it? My brain was trying to tell me that something terrible was happening. Had nothing to do with leftover sushi at three in the morning.” The car might be Dick’s brainchild, but it’s Luke’s way of decompressing–when the weight of the job starts to feel like too much to carry around he finds himself here, trying to figure out new ways to incorporate all of the things his friend wants included, constructing parts from scratch because he trusts himself more than anyone else. If Dick has noticed the pattern he hasn’t said anything, which in Luke’s mind speaks volumes to how good of a friend he is, or is an outright manipulation to get Luke to spend more time on his car. 

He gestures for Dick to hand him a pair of pliers so that he can begin the process of trying to remove the parts without damaging anything around him, pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe at the sweat and grease that’s starting to accumulate on his face. “So, you settling back into being Dick Grayson instead of the human rocket man?” 

“I did not install those wrong! You’re just not understanding what I was trying to...oh, no. No, you’re right. That’s not right at all.” This was exactly why Dick had called Luke in on this project in the first place. He’d had to get good at building his own stuff, but he wasn’t the son of the genius that made all of Batman’s equipment as good as it was. On a project like this, he could use all the help he could get, and when that help happened to be as good, or better than he was, at work like this, so much the better. He leaned over the body of the car so that he could keep track of what Luke was doing, learning on the fly. “Oh now that’s just not fair. You’re going to blame me for the aftermath of your bad sushi decisions now? Low blow, man. Real low.” He was smiling as he said it, though. He was having more fun with this project than he’d thought he would, friendly ribbing and all.

A lot of Clint’s nights were spent just like this one. The people changed — sometimes he was fucking with the Mob, other times it was the Tracksuits or some B-list supervillain, and he was typically with different people, too, such as Kate or Tony — but the main event was more or less a given. Clint went out, made enemies, went home, and repeated the process over and over again. It probably wasn’t the smartest, but it was fun and that was all that mattered. “You got good taste, at least,” he commented with a grin. Anyone who liked Kate was typically all right in Clint’s books, no matter who they were. “Nah, I don’t know him personally. I keep hearing he’s nice, though. Bet he gives off that Cap vibe.” Clint had tried disliking Steve on more than one occasion, but it never seemed to work. He had a feeling Superman would be the same.

“Yeah, I do,” Clint replied with a grin. He’d learned to move primarily like that, all extravagant flips and unnecessary showmanship. For a while, he’d had trouble remembering how to fight without it. Eventually, though, he managed to get back to his roots, to the stuff Barney taught him when they were busy dodging punches from their old man. It was a lot less conspicuous, and SHIELD had always liked that. “Definitely. I’m all about the fun, you know?” He was. It bit him in the ass from time to time, but it made what he did less grueling. It made the defeats a fraction less crushing, the victories a little sweeter. “You ever been hit?” Every hero suffered injuries on the job, but the seriousness of those injuries always varied. Clint typically got a little more beat up than most, and he was well aware of that. “Yeah, it’s nice. Having another Hawkeye around, it makes things feel a little less heavy, y’know?” Kate was one hell of a partner, and Clint had always known that. Flashing Nightwing a grin, Clint took off running, trusting the other man to follow as he leaped over to the next rooftop to avoid the goons the mobster had doubtlessly sent up the fire escape after them. Guys like that, they were predictable. Always the same reaction.

“Thank you. Finally, someone who recognizes how great my taste is,” Dick replied. Of course, it had been a pretty safe bet that they were going to be in agreement, considering that Kate was his protege. If he hadn’t liked her, it wouldn’t exactly have been smart to say so. Luckily, he hadn’t needed to lie. “I’m going to need you to tell everyone you meet how great my taste is, thanks. Would do my reputation some good.” Not that anybody who had actually seen him eat cereal straight out of the box for three meals in a row would believe that he had good taste, but it couldn’t hurt. “See, now, I haven’t actually met Captain America. But I’m betting they’re a lot a like, yeah.” From everything Dick had heard, he actually kind of wanted to see them work together. The complaints from certain quarters would be incredible.

( ✉ → boy wonder ): I would never!! 😊 But just keep that in mind. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): Somehow I doubt it’s that long. What you choose to do in your free time is your business. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): It’s a shame they aren’t paying more attention to meme related wrongdoings. ( ✉ → boy wonder ): At least Tim’s eyes don’t glaze over when I talk about what’s on my monitors. And I never intended to use him as an insult, you willed the comparison on yourself.

(✉ → nightwing): are you sure about that? need more evidence… ;) (✉ → nightwing): you should definitely trust me. we’re tight, i know what she likes. (✉ → nightwing): my plans never go wrong. meet me at 10?

(✉ → nightwing): If you want more nightmare fodder, I’m pretty sure I could write a book to keep you up during patrols. Last thing you want to do is nod off when you’re on top of the Empire State. Yeah, meat smells weird to me, I would be out. I like to provide evidence to back up my claims, Nightwing. (✉ → nightwing): Good we have two people agreeing to a completely unsubstantiated claim, so I’ll treat it as fact from here on out. He seems pretty intense. It took me a couple weeks just to get past the voice, honestly. (✉ → nightwing): You should really use your powers more wisely. (✉ → nightwing): It’s like a holiday, but it only lasts three hours until you hear something going on and you need to do that awkward run-and-change-outfits. 

Babs narrowed her eyes and clutched her water glass with both hands. “I resent the implication.” When Barbara had fashioned her first Batgirl costume, she was still so young, but already a college graduate. She had thought of herself as a fully developed adult, even if she was a little aimless when it came to her future. It was incredible how wrong she had been, how much of Bruce really had rubbed off on her. Being his first two protégés, it wasn’t surprising that they both fell into the pitfalls of Batman attitudes perhaps more often than the others. She also thought a lot of their similarities had to do with experience, with doing what they did for so many years. “You make a fair point. I could set up automatic emails instead? Once a week you can depend on me apologizing in your inbox.” Her dedication to her work was reliable enough to ensure she would be apologizing for many years to come. Being with him always reminded her of why she should make more time for the people she cared about, to see them regularly out of costume. It was just too easy for her to push this awareness aside once she started working on a new mission.

When she had the implant surgery, she could both blame and thank her father. He had been so intent on finding something that would make her resemble the girl she used to be, though she knew there was no going back to the person she had been before. Her father had always believed that he had put her in danger, but Barbara did an amazing job of doing that herself. If it hadn’t been that bullet that night, it easily could have been a different one another night. In a way, she had agreed because she knew what it meant to her dad, but she regularly had dreams about being Batgirl again, of that feeling of flying through the air between rooftops. She had come to terms with never capturing that moment again, but once the possibility had been planted in her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Although none of them had broached the subject, she knew her team mates on all sides had to wonder what her recovery meant for the way she chose to fight crime. Babs still wasn’t sure if returning to her old costume was the right choice, but it was the choice she was making. His response made her peek up at him, her face still angled towards her glass. “You really think so?” Whether he did or not was secondary to the fact that he was at least willing to pretend. And as much as she didn’t want to risk upsetting herself by prying, she couldn’t help but poke. “It’s strange to think of how well I know everyone, yet I’ve never had the chance to fight alongside most of them.” If she was being honest, she was a little nervous about how she would fit in. Her presence could easily throw the others off-balance. She wondered if even Dick had forgotten what it was like to kick butt side by side.

“Wait, hang on. That one wasn’t supposed to be a dig at you. I’m not sure how I did that, but I’m sorry.” Not being quite sure exactly how he'd put his foot in his mouth this time didn't stop Dick from apologizing automatically. He wasn’t about to let his automatic ribbing of his mentor cause whatever he had going with Babs now to get broken again. All he’d really meant was that it was incredible to see how differently they’d all turned out, even with the same teacher. Bruce was such a strong person, and they’d all picked up bits and pieces of who he was, of the mission, of the focus and determination. But they were all so different too, all of their strengths and weaknesses making them completely different from Bruce even though they were all alike too. It was incredible, in the best possible way. “That sounds perfect,” he exclaimed. “Then I can just ignore my email forever, and we’ll be all set. It’s the ideal system, Babs, you’re definitely a genius.” Of course, that probably wasn’t quite what she’d been going for, but it worked for him. Especially since he didn’t want her to apologize in the first place. She’d never done anything to him to warrant one, not really. Anything that had happened, they’d both done to each other.

Of all the tools in his arsenal, Peter’s rocket boots were his favorite. When he needed to make a quick getaway, they were incredibly useful, especially on Earth. Terran cops weren’t used to the people they were chasing flying away with special shoes, after all, and when Peter took off towards a nearby rooftop, he couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the shocked cursing he heard echoing through the alleyway behind him.

He landed on the roof with ease, grinning as he pulled his newly-acquired wallet from his pocket and began to rifle through it. He probably should’ve noticed he wasn’t alone on the rooftop pretty much instantly, but it was Earth. He wasn’t exactly expecting any resistance! Hearing a nearby clicking noise, Peter shoved his new wallet back into his pocket and moved towards it cautiously, one hand on his element gun. When a familiar figure came into view, he relaxed with a grin.

“Richie!” He greeted, coming up behind his friend and throwing an arm around his shoulder. “Really? Looks to me like you’re picking a lock. Oh my god, are you a criminal on Earth? Like a legit criminal? This is so cool. Can I help? What crime are we doing here, buddy? A little B&E? You know that’s my specialty, dude!”

“I’m not a criminal!” If Dick sounded a little defensive, well, it definitely wasn’t his day, and he could be forgiven for feeling off. Besides, he wasn’t. He was actually pretty much exactly the opposite of that. Most days. As long as he wasn’t considering vigilantism a real crime. And it wasn’t like he was breaking and entering to do any actual crime. Just breaking in for the sake of getting not here.

It wasn’t like he was putting any effort into pretending to be Rich, so he followed that declaration up with “Also, not Richard. Well. Confusingly, I am Richard, but a different one, because that’s exactly the sort of confusion that this body swapping situation needed.” He tucked his makeshift lockpicks into his pocket, and held out a hand to shake. “Guessing you’re a friend of his?” Because that was exactly what this situation needed. At least he wasn’t setting Rich up for future ridicule, which he felt was pretty considerate of him, since it meant taking that kind of ridicule on for himself instead.

full playlist on spotify

selected tracks:

song for the sleepless - ollie mn      Maybe by the time the morning rears its head      I'll feel ready to get up and face the world again

anything - hedley      A thousand disbelievers couldn't keep me on the ground      I've invented a momentum that'll never slow me down      I believe it 'cause I feel it and I shout it out loud      I can, I can, I can so

Rooftop debates were technically a confrontation that came under the X-Men’s jurisdiction - or their own self imposed code, given the fact that the government failed to recognise the contributions of mutantkind to their safety, lest they were forced to give more than the most basic of human rights to the population - but they weren’t an area that Scott was particularly well versed with. The team that he led more often than not dealt with cosmic threats, or at least those that threatened the planet as a whole. The city was known to him in the same vague way as most people’s background to their lives were known, but he didn’t know how to jump through the roofs, didn’t have much experience with who was the bad guys and the good guys.

“Stranded on a rooftop,” Scott repeated, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the man. The apology was clearly false, but Scott saw no reason for him to lie about what he was doing on the roof now that he had been caught in the act. Of course, most people didn’t exactly need a reason, did they? “What do you mean by ‘stranded’? Are you telling me you didn’t climb up here just to break in through the least well protected entrance, because that sounds a lot like bullshit?”

Starkly, Scott was reminded that he didn’t have Bobby by his side on this one to bitch about the stairs with. “Inside joke,” Scott said, internally cringing when he did. It sounded as if he had inside jokes with himself. No wonder he needed Jean to tutor him in how to make friends when he was sixteen. “I could do sixteen flights if I wanted to. Thirty-two.” Did that matter right now? Absolutely not. Was Scott still going to be a contrary son of a bitch and argue it? Absolutely.

“Okay,” Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest, immediately feeling more comfortable. He was a headmaster, he could handle the standard ‘I can explain.’ “I’m listening.”

Honestly, if this was the universe’s way of balancing out giving Dick the ability to fly, he was going to have to think long and hard about whether it had been worth it. Yes, okay, he probably should have expected that something like this was going to happen, but who locked the roof access to their buildings anyway? Honestly, he was going to have to have words with them, and he was gaining a new appreciation for the impulse to just buy a handful of buildings everywhere. If he’d had a bolthole here, this wouldn’t be happening. Probably.

“I mean stranded. As in stuck, or trapped, or unable to leave, et cetera.” Sassing the guy confronting him wasn’t likely to rank high on his list of good life choices today, but considering where he was right now, it wasn’t like he had a whole lot of reasons to act cheerful. “I definitely didn’t climb up here to break in through the least protected entrance. Not that this would be the least protected entrance. People up this high never lock their windows. Which I admit is not the most helpful thing I could have said just now to get you to trust that I’m not breaking into this building for crime.” Oh man. He could never let Bruce know about this. There was absolutely no chance that he would ever live it down. Ever.

He frowned. Inside joke? “Okay then. Skating right on past that one, except to say that pro tip, those usually work better if both people are on the inside.” So, less skating past and more just commenting on the weirdness, but he thought he could probably be forgiven for that, considering the day he was having. By an objective outside observer, at least, if not by the guy he was actually possibly insulting while being confronted by him in the middle of a sort-of crime. This was not his day.

“That almost implies that your adversaries entertain you,” Felicia teased. Within a few moments she had gained more and more evidence to back up her initial impression - she liked this guy. Her well laid plans for this heist were going to be thoroughly disrupted by his presence, just as she always looked forward to. The nights that she wasn’t caught, or at least delayed because she had never been in cuffs properly in her life and wasn’t intending to start now, were the nights that she went home with more money in her pocket, but no accomplishment in her heart. Felicia did hate being unaccomplished. “I would ask if I was one of those interesting people, but I already know that I am. You’re just trying to work me out now, aren’t you?”

There was a reason, after all, why Felicia had slipped that gem into her pocket rather than tucking it up her sleeve, well out of his sight. It was, in many ways, a taunt but it also served as a nice little psychological exercise, a way to weigh up her opponent. Single minded focus was what made so many vigilantes successful, but meant that thieves had something of a hold over them. “Is it cheating, or is it smart thinking? So often the two coincide.” Felicia shrugged, but there was a sharp smirk on her face as she did so. “Well, I’m not going to give you my social security number, but you can call me Black Cat.” Felicia let out a laugh, flicking her hair back. “You can only land a punch if you can catch me, darling. Don’t get too cocky.”

“What can I say, the usual rooftop crew’s a bundle of laughs,” Dick replied, shrugging. He wasn’t about to apologize for the fact that he liked the life he got to lead. Especially not when he was pretty sure he had the entire moral high ground here. Probably the mid-ground too. Basically the entire field of morality was his kingdom. Except for the little speck where technically vigilantism was illegal too. But still, he was definitely coming out ahead as long as they disregarded strict adherence to the law. “Who says I need to work anything out? Are you trying to convince me that you’re more interesting than my average thief? Because I’m not sure I believe that.” Except for the fact that most thieves didn’t dress up in costume. For that alone, this was turning out to be an interesting night. But he wasn’t about to admit that, not to her.

(✉ → nightwing): That’s fair enough. I mean, I’m concerned about what I would be in another world. You’d think that, but from the way my buddy talks, being a family butcher is like a death sentence. Penne. It absorbs sauces well, and it has cool grooves.  (✉ → nightwing): At least it means I’m pretty likely not to break them again? I think. I’m not entirely sure whether that’s just a vicious rumour spread by the internet. You’ve mentioned it a few times, yeah. What was yours like? (✉ → nightwing): Do people fall off roofs often when they talk to you for a period of time? (✉ → nightwing): Everyone needs a few nights off in a month. Or at least a year. You wouldn’t regret it. Probably.

At a certain point, you learned not to take chances on people. Clint took more time to learn that lesson than most, ended up with far more bullets and arrows and blades tearing through him than most people would’ve needed. Some days, he still had trouble remembering it, keeping it a rule. With this guy, he was reasonably sure he’d be all right if things took a turn. The guy was probably armed to the teeth, but so was Clint. If nothing else, he was confident he’d be able to get away. He didn’t think he’d need to, though. “Oh, yeah? She’s amazing. Seriously, one of the best people I know. Don’t tell her I said so, it’ll go straight to her head.” Clint was happy to brag on Kate just as long as she never found out about it. “Broke my ribs once getting shot with a bulletproof vest, and guys like Superman are out here just lettin’ it all bounce off ‘em. It’s not fair!” Clint was glad that some of his friends were a little more bulletproof, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jealous!

Clint’s brows shot up at the backflip, impressed in spite of himself. “How much of that do you do in the field?” He didn’t flip around nearly as much as he used to — that kinda thing was hell on your joints, and he’d learned that there were way easier ways to move — but he went back to his circus roots from time to time, often without really thinking. “I rely on dodging, mostly. Gotten pretty good at it!” That was one skill his father had taught him, at least. “That’s fair,” he shrugged, letting the subject drop. Some things weren’t matters of discussions in conversations with strangers, and Clint got that. “Man, feels like I’m a lot less unique these days.” He snorted, joking tone making it clear that he wasn’t losing sleep over it. Once upon a time, it would’ve terrified him, but these days he was fairly confident the Avengers wouldn’t replace him. He knew where they all lived, so it’d be an awkward conversation! Clint let out a whoop of excitement as the car went up, throwing a hand into the air. A door across the street swung open, and Clint stumbled away from the roof’s ledge, motioning for Nightwing to follow. “This is probably the part where we split,” he informed his new friend seriously. 

This was shaping up to be a better night than Dick had been planning on. No combat yet, but it wasn’t like he could have everything he enjoyed all in one night. And hey, the night was still young. This whole ‘taunting the Mob’ idea had a certain amount of potential for mayhem. So he had that going for him, on top of the likely new friend. All in all, not bad for a routine night of patrol. “Your secret’s safe with me. But yeah, she’s pretty awesome.” He would absolutely have tried to recruit her over to the Titans, back in the day, if she hadn’t had a team and a mentor looking out for her already. Saying so in front of said mentor didn’t really seem like the best idea ever. “Right? But you can’t ever complain about it to his face, because the guy’s so nice. Seriously, have you ever met him?” Not that he complained about it that often. And he found it was better to be where the bullets weren’t than to try to bounce them around.

(✉ → nightwing): you’re my new favourite friend. caffeine is the only way to lighten my black heart (✉ → nightwing): she loves them, nightwing! trust me! (✉ → nightwing): okay, so new plan: we hit up all the rooftops while we track down grizzly-villain?