I’M SRRY I’VE BEEN GONE BUT THERE ARE ONLY FIVE DAYS BEFORE SDCC AND MY COSPLAYS ARE N OT DONE SOS
i’m over here if anyone wants to chit chat
"Dick, you came in a blazer."
”Please. It was my barbecue casual blazer.”
He breaks into a slow smile.
”I’ve never been that great at, uh… clothes. Just in general.”
"It’s how he remembers Nightwing. He remembers Dick as the young man who overdressed to a barbecue."
”Oh—phew. That one’s not so bad.
… wait, overdressed?”
There’s plenty of thugs and thieves around.
What’d he do that got you on his ass?
Mostly the way he acquired the school buses.
Let’s just say he didn’t say please.
Want to help or not?
Live And Let Die || Double Agent AU (Closed)
Even if it had only been a couple of seconds, waiting for an answer nearly killed him with anticipation. He had a feeling that the gradual smile on Dick’s face portrayed his growing interest, and sure enough, he accepted. Oh goodie. Roy was definitely not going to let this opportunity slide. “Cocky, huh? Sexy.”
Once they finally ditched the car, Roy let his eyes wander around the neighbourhood, falling a couple of paces behind Dick in the process. “What room are you in? I’ll catch up to you. I’ve gotta go and pick out your poison.”
When he thought of a better idea, the red head stepped closer with a less than innocent smile and a sly glint in his eyes. “You could also gimme your room key if you’ve got a spare on you.”
If anything, Roy was probably not going to be quick at all. He needed to be able to outsmart Dick somehow, because the marksman had no doubt that Dick could identify the wine once the liquid hit his pallet, or at least single others out depending on whether it was a cork or a twist-off cap.
Dick wants to comment that if anyone’s mastered the art of overconfidence, it’s Roy—but he’s nothing if not sure of himself, and he only grins in answer as they slip out of the car and make their was down the street. It’s still relatively busy out, as this side of the city typically didn’t sleep until well into the morning. Ritzy hotels and gambling halls, late night, high caliber performances, food and drink tabbed at the cost of a small island… Dick had never liked the lifestyle much. But he could fit into a suit, and he’d gotten better over the years at smiling when he didn’t necessarily mean it.
But with Roy, he finds that he does. Green eyes and a coy grin pull him back, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach into his suit jacket and retrieve an extra hotel key card. He extends it toward Roy, but the moment he reaches for it, it’s pulled back against Dick’s chest. “Don’t misplace this, Harper. Important things lie beyond that hotel door.”
He pauses. “My belongings, for one.” Taking the archer’s wrist, Dick slips the card smoothly into his palm, fingers lingering for a few slow seconds.
“Good luck. Pick something good.”
With absolutely no intention of doling out more of his meager funds, Jonathan turns on his heel and runs from the fight, long legs taking him away. Those morons can have their bodies bruised and broken by that lunatic in the kevlar costume, and be hauled off to Blackgate. There’s always more where those come from.
Unfortunately, the weight of his needled gauntlet begins to weigh Jonathan down and slow his pace. Many months he’d gone to ground, waiting for the heat to back off him. He’d had plans to use the expensive chemicals to create a better, less odorous form of his gas and use it to poison one of the biggest banks in the city. Jonathan thought of strolling into the room with all around him writhing on the floor in terror and cleaning out as much money as he could carry.
Of course, one of the ‘Bats’ had to appear and throw all those plans asunder.
It seems some of the men aren’t as loyal to Scarecrow as he probably hoped they were, crowbars and knives being dropped or resheathed so they could turn and bolt the same way their benefactor had. It’s certainly lucky for Nightwing—dealing with all of them would give their boss enough time to disappear completely. That wouldn’t fly, not when he’d been doing so well at staying hidden the past few months.
As soon as there’s a break in the fighting, Nightwing ditches the remaining work men and takes off after Scarecrow. He’s not a hard figure to miss, tall and costumed, not at all meant to blend into the grime and shadows the backstreets have to offer.
the true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he lσνєs what is behind him.