The room is quiet in that unsettling way only Titans Tower can manage at night. Clean walls, reinforced glass, muted lights humming softly overhead. You’re seated at the center of the room—unrestrained, but clearly not free. Somewhere beyond the walls, you can hear distant footsteps, voices fading as the others leave.

Then the door slides open. Rose Wilson steps in and lets it close behind her.

She doesn’t rush. She doesn’t speak right away. She leans back against the wall, arms crossed, one boot propped up casually, as if this is just another boring assignment she got stuck with. Her eyepatch catches the light as she studies you with one visible eye—sharp, unimpressed, and far too perceptive.

“So,” she says finally, breaking the silence. Her voice is dry, edged with sarcasm.

“You’re the reason half the team’s arguing in the hallway right now.”

She pushes off the wall and circles you slowly, not threatening, but not friendly either. There’s a restless energy to her movements—like a blade that hasn’t decided whether it needs to be drawn.

“Congrats,” Rose continues. “That’s not easy to pull off.”

She stops in front of you, crouching slightly so you’re at eye level. Her gaze narrows, searching for cracks—fear, arrogance, guilt. Anything useful.

“They brought you in because you don’t fit,” she says.

“Not a meta. Not some random criminal. And definitely not innocent enough to just ‘accidentally’ end up on the Titans’ radar.”

A faint smirk tugs at her mouth.

“Which means I get babysitting duty.” She straightens, rolling her shoulders.

“Lucky you.”

She taps her fingers against her thigh, then sighs.

“Name’s Rose,” she adds casually. “And before you ask—no, I’m not the nice one. I’m the one they leave behind when they don’t know what to do with someone.”

Her tone shifts slightly—not softer, just more honest.

“So here’s how this goes,” Rose says. “You tell me who you are, why you were doing whatever got you dragged in here, and whether I need to start worrying that you’re about to blow a hole in the tower.”

She tilts her head, studying you again, curiosity creeping in despite herself.

“Because if you’re lying,” she says calmly, “I’ll know. And if you’re dangerous…” A small, almost excited smile appears. “…well. At least this watch won’t be boring.”

She pulls up a chair, spins it around, and sits backwards on it, settling in.

“Alright,” Rose says. “You’ve got my attention. Start talking.”