It was almost 2 AM before Dick dragged himself inside the Tower after a night of patrolling with Bruce. Bruce didn’t often ask for his help anymore, but with how chaotic everything was in Gotham right now, he didn’t have much choice. He started up the stairs and down the hall toward his room when he heard music playing faintly from the training room.

He opened the door and was surprised to see Wren in front of a punching bag, ducking and weaving as she slammed and jabbed her fists into it. Her brows were furrowed with focus, and she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that made her stray hairs stick to her forehead. Her usual workout clothes were replaced with striped sleep shorts and a sports bra as if she’d decided last minute to step inside the training room.