she’d be one of the few. while he had always been plenty popular in his youth, his popularity had faded very quickly after nightwing. he’d shrunk back from everything that made him social, forced out of gymnastics and soon found himself better friends with the bottom of a bottle than he was with anyone he’d grown up with. the boy she’d kissed on camp, the boy she apparently liked, felt like such a far cry from who he was now — and yet here they are, both dragged into it all again, both forced to try to help some random kids that found themselves facing down and all too familiar axe-wielding maniac. he can’t help but laugh slightly at the question, possibly the nicest thing anyone’s said to him in a long while. “definitely an interesting choice.” he’s well aware that he hasn’t exactly made much of himself, knows that everyone’s plenty familiar with his tendency to drown his sorrows. he may have begrudgingly sobered up for this, but still he had a faint smell of alcohol to him. “for what it’s worth—” gaze meets hers before faltering, attention turned to the floor. “—i still like you too.”