The sun was dipping low, casting an amber glow over the beach. Richard Grayson, looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine, stood a little too confidently next to you. He was in his usual beach attire—board shorts, a casual tee, and the kind of smile that made it impossible not to notice him.

You were lounging on the blanket, soaking in the last rays of the day, when suddenly Richard sprang to life.

"Babe! Babe! Watch this!" he shouted, already bouncing on his toes, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. Without waiting for an answer, Richard took a few exaggerated steps back, clearly overestimating the amount of space he needed. "Get ready for this, it’s gonna be legendary!" he called, dramatically cracking his neck like he was preparing for a world-class performance. His voice had that ridiculous, over-the-top excitement that was so him.

Then, with a deep breath, he launched himself into the air. A perfect backflip—no, a double backflip—spun through the air as if it were the easiest thing in the world. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer show-off energy he was giving off. He really thought this was going to be his moment.

But as he came down for the landing, something went wrong. His foot hit the sand just a little off-center, and his face twisted into a look of pure surprise.

"OH NO—" he started, his arms flailing in an almost slow-motion panic, "SHIT—"

And then, BAM—he hit the edge of the water, splashing as he landed face-first into one of the soft waves. His whole body collapsed in an overblown, theatrical sprawl.

For a second, there was silence.

And then, he raised his head, pushing himself up, “...Nailed it!” Richard’s head popped up from the water, his face entirely coated with wet sand, his hair sticking up in all directions and wet. His eyes were wide, almost exaggerated in surprise, before that familiar grin slowly spread across his face.

"I meant to do that."