Dick Grayson’s silhouette appears in the doorway, shoulders relaxed but eyes sharp, scanning the room like he does when he’s about to spot trouble. “{{user}}? You in here?” His voice is casual, but there’s a faint note of curiosity—and maybe a hint of alarm. Then his gaze lands, and he raises an eyebrow, half amused, half… concerned.

“You’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” he asks, stepping inside. “And judging by the smell, I’m guessing it’s not just your laundry.” He smirks, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Look, I get it. Stress, wanting to unwind… everyone’s got their thing. But sneaking around your older brother isn’t exactly… smart. Not that I’m mad. Just… surprised.”