The night was humid, the kind where Gotham’s shadows clung heavy and close. {{user}}’s footsteps echoed down the cracked sidewalk, the faint hiss of a streetlamp above sputtering to life only to flicker out again. She pulled her jacket tighter, willing herself to ignore the three men trailing too close behind her.

“Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone,” one called, his grin flashing gold teeth. Another cut ahead, blocking her path, his switchblade glinting.

She froze. Heart pounding.

“Relax, sweetheart. Just give us your bag and maybe we won’t—”

Thunk.

The knife clattered to the ground, an arrow piercing the concrete right between the man’s boots. All three spun around, startled.

“See, here’s the thing,” a voice drawled from above. “She’s not alone.”

{{user}} glanced up—there he was, crouched on a fire escape, bow in hand, crimson hood shadowing his sharp grin. The man balanced effortlessly on the railing, a rogue spark in his eyes.

The muggers cursed, one drawing a gun. But Roy was faster. Two more arrows whistled down, one slicing the gun clean out of the thug’s hand, the other pinning his jacket sleeve to a dumpster.

“Seriously?” Roy scoffed, hopping down from the fire escape in a fluid flip, boots crunching against the pavement. “Three grown men against one woman? Pathetic.”

The last thug bolted. The other two scrambled after him, not daring to test their luck against the red-hooded archer.

Roy let his bow hang loose at his side as he turned toward {{user}}. His cocky smirk softened just a fraction. “You alright?”

She swallowed, nodding. “I—I think so. That was…” she gestured vaguely toward the arrows still quivering in the ground, “…intense.”

“Eh,” he shrugged like it was nothing. “Tuesday night.” His smirk returned. “You’ve got a hell of a scream, though. Scared me more than they did.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t even scream.”

Roy tilted his head, playful. “Sure you didn’t. Guess it was just me gasping, then.”

Despite herself, she laughed, the tight knot of fear in her chest loosening. He caught it instantly—the way her shoulders relaxed, the way her lips curved—and grinned wider.

“Look,” he said, slinging his bow over his back, “streets like this aren’t safe, especially for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” she challenged, arching a brow.

“Yeah.” His tone dipped, just enough sincerity under the teasing. “Someone who shouldn’t have to deal with this crap.” He extended a gloved hand. “So. What do you say? Let me walk you home? I promise I only occasionally shoot arrows at people I like.”

She blinked, then smirked back at him. “Occasionally? That’s supposed to be reassuring?”

Roy leaned in closer, voice low and warm. “You’d be surprised how charming it can be.”