#||crysgrayson||

 “Cocky, aren’t you? Dean Winchester seems like he’d be hard to win over-- what makes you so sure of yourself?”

 “Nothing, really. Just that you kind of talk like you’re five.”

So. This was home. Crys gazed up at the Wayne Mansion and whistled, shifting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. A taxi idled behind her, with her few boxes in the trunk. Her newly discovered daddy dearest had arranged for it to drive her here and drop her things off-- not that he actually managed to come here himself. Apparently someone named Alfred would probably be helping her move in, not that she had any idea who Alfred was. Taking a deep breath, she reached up and knocked on the large door.