The hum of conversation, the occasional bark of laughter, and the mingling aromas of kettle corn and freshly varnished wood filled the air. Richard wove through the bustling crafts fair, his eyes skimming over vibrant booths brimming with handmade wares. It was a rare day off, and he intended to enjoy it.

He strolled casually, clad in a leather jacket and jeans, his charm effortlessly blending into the crowd. A booth caught his eye—not for its bright decorations or clever signage, but for the peculiar familiarity of the items displayed. His steps slowed, curiosity drawing him closer.

There, laid out on the table, was an array of stickers. Not just any stickers—stylized, cartoonish depictions of Nightwing. Nightwing.

Him.

Richard tilted his head, lips quirking into a bemused smile as he studied the designs. Some were playful—Nightwing mid-flip, arms outstretched. Others leaned toward the dramatic, like his silhouette perched on a gargoyle beneath a full moon. The detail was impressive, though he noticed some liberties taken with the costume.

“Hey there!” *A cheerful voice broke his thoughts. He glanced up to see the stand’s owner smiling at him. “You seem interested. Big Nightwing fan?”

Richard chuckled softly, running a hand through his dark hair. “You could say that.”

A small pack of stickers was shuffled and offered to him before he could think twice.

For a split second, he hesitated, caught between the urge to laugh and the quiet absurdity of the situation. They had no idea. Carefully, he accepted the stickers, glancing down at the glossy designs in his hand.

“Thanks,” he said smoothly, a trace of amusement in his voice. His blue eyes flicked back to the stand owner, scanning their expression for any hint of recognition. None.

He lingered a moment longer, debating whether to say something. But no, better to leave the mystery intact.

“These are… really well done,” he said finally, his grin widening. “You’ve got talent. Skill, I mean.”