@honcrbound
He'd been glancing at the costume forlornly all night, enough that Riddler threw up his hands in bemused defeat and let him tuck away his biology notes, told him to go play. So he pulls it on and goes and plays, working on some real-world agility and doing ridiculous little flippy things from rooftop to rooftop.
It all pauses, of course, when he lands a backflip a little too shakily and winds up on his back, catching a blur shooting across a gap and landing securely on the other side.
( Deathstroke! Probably going to kill somebody, if Sphinx had to make an educated guess! )
Something intrudes upon his awe, something sly, something terrible and mischievous.
I'm gonna impress Riddler. I'm gonna tail Deathstroke. There's no 'I'll try' or 'maybe I can' in it; this is a confident assertion, despite the fact that Deathstroke is right up there next to Joker on the list of people Sphinx is not allowed to interact with at any point, for any length of time, for any reason. Call it the most pathetic instance of teenage rebellion in the history of sidekick-dom.
With a whisper of kevlar, a scuff of rubber boots against concrete, Sphinx slips effortlessly into the shadowed chasm of the alley walls and follows.
