A date without pizza

September 26, 2014: A date, that ends badly.

Diamond District



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Mood Music:

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Eight o'clock sharp and not a moment later, Robin with a certain Spoiler in tow, slinks along the rooftops of the Diamond District. Vorpal had said that Jack Delanio's gang was getting together to plot something. Clearly something nefarious. Probably drugs. Or weapons. Or organized crime things.

Assignments always manage to get Robin focused. He slips along the shadows, glancing over his shoulder from time to time as the pair jump from building to building. He casts her a playful, very boyish grin. In a way it unsettles that she can even have this effect on him when he doesn't really know her. But the effect exists, for better or worse.

Adjacent to the rooftop greenhouse in question, the Boy Wonder pauses. He slinks back, hanging into the shadows to explain, "Vorpal said the meeting would go down in this location." The greenhouse can't really be seen into from this angle, thanks to the trick of the light and the greenery lining its walls. "Drug smuggling seems most likely. Gotham is an awful place for that."

Spoiler follows him, her grin in reply broad, the pleasure in being part of a crime fighting team obvious. The effect is mutual at least, the blue eyes bright with happiness as she pauses beside him, leaning against a wall, her head tilted back to look up at him. "Drugs are awful." The emotion in her voice hints at a history here, but she shoots him a look, the risk of distraction with this thing between them emerging. "What do we do?"

Robin sucks on the inside of his cheek contemplatively as he crouches down to the ground. His eyes focus on the greenhouse and debate a plan of attack. "Well we can't see inside from here. So it's not likely they can see us if we approach." His lips purse lightly. "But, it also means we'll have to get inside. Most greenhouses have two entrances. One from the back, the other from the front." His eyes blink owlishly behind the mask as he reaches into his utility belt and hands her a smoke pellet. "Here. I'm going to go in first. The front way. I'll give you a signal," he reaches into his utility belt again and extracts a small military grade flashlight, "if we need the smoke pellet. Then I want you to throw it for cover." Pause. "Then we'll take down the bad guys. Good?"

She watches him, sliding down to sit next to him, a small nod suggesting she heard his ideas. She takes the pellet, closing a gloved hand around it, "Good." The plan is agreed but she leans forward, reaching for him, her lips curving into a devil-may-care grin for a moment before she kisses him. A good kiss. "Good luck." The whisper is a little breathless perhaps and then she turns, preparing for her parts in this scheme.

The kiss causes him to linger a little longer than may be called for or appropriate. "Batman is going to lecture me~" he whispers to himself when she's out of earshot. With a small shake of his head, he reminds himself to focus up. His body straightens, he slides into the shadows and treads towards the greenhouse. Carefully, slowly, he treads to the greenhouse and gives the door a tug. He peeks inside. A glance is given towards Spoiler, but then he turns back to the door. Robin steps through to a lot of silence. He literally walks right in. There's no military signal. No words. Just Robin, stepping into the greenhouse garden.

And no signal, so she waits, clutching the pellet, waiting on his command. But she has a smile on her lips, under the mask, her blue eyes bright, the optimism rising in her. The smile widens as she waits, the kiss replayed a few times in her head, her attention mostly on watching for the signal…

And there's continued silence. For some reason, there's no sounds of beating up. No arguing. No bullets. No voices. Silence.

Until Robin steps out and waves towards her. His fingers silently invite her to come inside. He steps through the entrance once more.

When Spoiler enters the the Greenhouse, she'll see the 'trap' that's been set. In the centre of the room lays a table for two, adorned with crisp white linens, and proper place settings for two people. A pair of tall lit candles flicker in the greenhouse, giving the place an amber glow. Last, the table contains dinner on a buffet service, namely chateaubriandt, along with other courses, ready for immediate service. "So," Robin's face flushes. "This isn't what I was expecting. When Vorpal said drug dealers, I really did believe him." He turns to look at her and shrugs in that awkward way he does before walking to one of the chairs. "But. It'd kind of be a waste to — " he runs a hand through his hair and then tugs on the chair before offering it to her with a wave of his hand. "Have dinner with me?"

Spoiler jumps, her cape flaring around her as she does so. She lands, spreading her hands to balance, before she follows him, her face perplexed, and then she stares at the dinner set out before her. "Different type of drug…" The mumble is soft, before she steps forward, taking the chair with a glance up at him, the blue eyes bright. "Anytime." She props her elbows on the table, watching him, her expression hidden behind the mask. "So, your friend Vorpal setting us up? What did he leave us?"

Spoiler's response causes Robin's face to flush further. "Yeah?" he finally asks as he slides the chair closer to the table for her. "Do you mean it?" he asks quietly. Robin is all confidence, crime-fighting, and analytics. But Tim is not. And at this moment, what Spoiler sees is something of a mix of the two. "Steak, it would seem," because Robin isn't fancy enough to use its proper names. "As well as fixings related." He shoots her another smile, this one super crooked. "So… how long have you been crime-fighting?"

"Do I mean dinner is a different type of drug? Or that I'd have dinner with you anytime?" She tilts her head, her fingers lifting to move the mask so that she can eat. "Steak sounds good, I'm starving." She rests her cheek against her hand, her elbow on the table, and she replies slowly, softly, "A month, just over." She watches his reaction, watches him closely, Steph peeking out through her eyes from behind the Spoiler mask. "You? How did you end up with Batman?"

"The second of those questions," Robin replies as he watches her lift the mask just enough to be able to eat. He can't help but smile when he can see at least part of her expression. It prompts him to ask, "Does it really impair your vision? The mask, I mean…" He nods at her timeline. "Yeah, I would've thought we would've met sooner if it'd been a long stretch." The question about him has his head turning upwards. "Well. I've been with Batman for," he rubs his chin, "four years? Something like that."

"Yes." A simple reply, honest and direct, before she smiles at him, the mask rolled up and he can see it for once. "Not much, not as much as giving away my identity would." Her smile widens into a grin, the blue eyes behind the mask dancing, "Four years? How did you end up as his Robin?" There is a note in her voice, a touch of envy, wistfulness. "What is he like? What did he teach you?" Definitely wistful.

There's a tug of a frown at her tone. "Uh." The story of his journey to Robin is a convoluted one and a rather secret identity entrenched one. Robin's lips twist to the side. "It's sort of a long story. But long story short, I was just a kid obsessed with Batman and Robin." His tongue rolls over his lips. "There was some chance things that happened," he waves his hand, "and I got onto Batman's radar. He trained me for years before I was ever allowed to wear the mask." As far as what he's like, that's a harder thing to talk about. "He's… edges, I guess. Sharp edges. He's brilliant and is good at what he does. And he's protective. In his own way." Robin swallows hard and looks towards the steak.

She leans back in her chair, studying him, the smile fading a little as he speaks, "Hungry?" She pushes her chair back, rising to her feet, the movement distracting from their discussions. She reaches for the plates, beginning to serve them a meal, her face sobering. "It's hard to talk without giving ourselves away, or someone's secrets, isn't it?" The comment comes as she offers him a plate, her lips curved into a rueful smile, "There was someone doing bad stuff, and I need to stop them. I can't do it as me." A frank statement, as close to her truth as she can go.

"Always," Robin replies with a lopsided grin. It's not even a lie. He's so active that Tim could literally always eat. For a long stretch, he'd argued it's because he was growing. Now he argues it's because he's always moving. Even as a college student. "My secrets I'm less worried about," Robin replies evenly. "If it was just me, all alone, without a team to work with, then… my secrets are mine and mine alone. But it's not like that." He raises a hand, "I'm not suggesting that I don't want my f-team. Just. It complicates things a little more."

He sighs quietly and nods at her. "There's a lot of people doing bad stuff. They've been doing it for awhile." His lips press together lightly. "Maybe you should think about, you know, not doing these things all on your lonesome?"

She gives him a sober look, before she turns, heading for the table with her plate. She begins to eat, thinking over her reply, and then speaking slowly, thoughtfully, "So, it complicates things having a *team*…" She stresses the word, "Who do you think I should do it with, Robin? I know you, and kinda Vorpal, and I met Batgirl once…" She shrugs lightly, poking at the food before she begins to eat, savouring it, her appetite obvious, more than she had shown with the pizza.

"The Titans seem pretty flexible in terms of who they work with." He shoots her a flicker of a smile, this one weaker than the last. "It's not… like… ok. I was trained by Batman. But it took a lot of persuasion for that to happen. A lot of other people believed I should be Robin." Tim wasn't so sure. Especially back then. He retrieves his own plate and follows suit, taking a few really satisfied bites. "I can't remember the last time I sat down with someone to eat." He smirks.

Her foot is vanishing swiftly, her glance upwards sharp, before she leans back in her chair, poking the food around. The glance at him is thoughtful, "I see…" The softness of that reply is not an entirely positive comment, and there is a pause before she replies to his last, "I wonder why." The snark is back, Spoiler's defenses rising, her attention dropping down to the food. "I'll stick with my plan. Take them down when I can, spoil his plans." The look is direct, as she adds, "By myself. You don't get to tell me otherwise, Robin, just because you got a family to train you up, and a bunch of tools."

"Spoiler," Robin fights the fatigue that enters his tone. "I'm not telling you that… look. I actually like you. If I didn't, maybe I wouldn't be so persistent. I just don't want you getting hurt." He sighs and he picks at his own food. "The crime rate in this city is astronomical. And… I mean, you saw me the other day. I got shot. Without those tools, I'd probably be dead or at least in the ICU and likely under arrest for some barrage of crimes associated with vigilante justice." He pinches the bridge of his nose, his appetite having faded somewhat over the course of the conversation. "And I got hurt. With some pretty intense training. Years of experience. And some good tech. I could've been in even more trouble if I hadn't gotten help. Even if it wasn't on purpose, having other people to drag you out when things turn bad? It's important."

Spoiler pushes her plate away, the empty plate speaking more for hunger than the topic at hand. "Robin… You want me to stay home, or play in a little league, because you don't want me to get hurt. But you get hurt, they get hurt and if I don't do this, people will get hurt and it will be my fault for not stopping it…" She speaks softly, passionately, her blue eyes bright, "Noone but me was there when you got hurt. Your tech didn't help, your bat signal didn't help." She glances across at the food, adding softly, "Did he leave dessert, do you think? Want more?" She really is hungry.

"I want you to be safe," Robin counters. "And I'm trying to help you find strategies to — " he inhales a sharp breath, shakes his head and sighs. "I don't get that hurt. It was a lucky shot. And, I forgot to disarm the puppet." He shoots her a crooked smile, "I told him he needed to stop playing with dolls though. That may not have been my best idea in awhile." Again he runs a hand through his hair. "Right. The tech didn't help later. But I could've managed well bough. I have friends out there. I count myself luck to have them. Even if we don't always all get along." He sighs and then slides his seat from the table. "Looks like he did." He smirks, "Like cheesecake?"

She reaches for his plate, clearing them, an action of habit. "I've got strategies, Robin." She puts the plates on the side, reaching past him for the whole cheesecake, bearing it off to the table. "You could have bled out if I hadn't found you, how is that different to me?" She puts it on the table, between them, taking a fork and beginning to eat without him. "I'll be fine, Robin, I'll learn and I've got the inside line on my guys." She licks off the fork, shooting him a look, her lips curving, "You should watch out for yourself…"

"I had kevlar," Robin deadpans. "I wasn't bleeding," not even internally, thank his lucky stars for that. "I was really really badly bruised." And worse for wear. He was swollen too. Alfred had him on a healthy dosage of aspirin, ice, and gel stuff that Dick recommended. "And it's different because I had the kevlar in the first place. I'd already disarmed two goons that were more than double my size. And I made a rookie mistake. That I've already learned." He watches her lick off the fork and allows his eyebrows to draw together, "I always do."

"Uhuh." The sound is dismissive, as she takes another large forkful, eating it slowly, deliberately. At him. "Yeah, so do I." She eats more, deliberately teasing him with that movement, and then she stands up. "Tell Vorpal thanks for the dinner. I'll see you around, Boy Wonder." She turns, walking towards the door, her share of the cheesecake eaten in those few moments. "I'll let you know when I need backup." A snarky challenge, over her shoulder.

Robin unceremoniously rolls his eyes and sighs again. His eyes remain fixed on her with every movement, every comment, and every glance. Finally he slides away from the table, abandoning his chair in the process. "And this is the problem, isn't it?" he finally asks, his gaze levelling at her as he strides towards her. Whatever he means by that is followed up by a small shake of his head, shaking off whatever their issues might be. His own gentleness tells him to keep walking, and for once he heeds it, brushing passed her through the door. He reaches to his belt and grasps his grappling gun. The tool is fired and as quick as he'd come, Robin is gone.

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