It’s stupid, alright? Steph knows that already. This is stupid, she’s stupid, what was she thinking, blah blah blah.

She just needed a break. One small, tiny, little night where she didn’t have to think and worry and stress about everything. That’s all!

Sure, she could’ve called someone, but she didn’t. There’s no one she wanted to see, no matter how mean it feels to admit. Cass is her best friend, but Steph doesn’t want to deal with her concern right now (because she's so earnest that sometimes Steph feels like a piece of shit). Tim would’ve answered too, but recently being around him makes her want to punch him in the face so hard that he bleeds.

Now she’s outside a gay bar in a part of Gotham she doesn’t know too well and drunk out of her damn mind. This hot tboy bought her three shots, and then she’d been roped into drinking a rum and coke with a femme who Steph ended up making out with, and then she’d laughed and drank a couple of strong ass ciders with a roller derby team. It’s all that she can even recall drinking. At some point after she’d swapped earrings with a guy she’d never see again, everything kinda blurred.

Steph’s not exactly sure how she ended up outside, but the cold air sobered her up enough to realize that she’s drunk and alone and that her mind keeps blanking on these damn street names. Her mouth tastes like chocolate, her feet hurt, and she’s feeling too gloomy. It’s cold and the air is awful and she wishes she wore some stockings.

The easy solution is to call Cass, right? She’d help, even if she’s on patrol. Steph would tell her about the weird looking hydrant across the street and she’d know where Steph is in seconds. She’d be worried, though she’d escort Steph home anyway. Maybe in the morning, she’d show up to her apartment with a treat from Alfred or the dumb cafe they like.

It’s what Steph should do.

But she just can’t. Steph knows what it’s like for people to be disappointed in her, to look at her and notice just how big of a fuck up she is. She can’t handle that from Cass. Not right now.

She scrolls through her contacts, every name a worse idea than the last. Steph can’t call anyone she respects, and she definitely can’t call anyone she doesn’t.

The music changes three times by the time Steph makes up her mind.

The number she ends up calling isn’t even a saved contact. Steph doesn’t think twice as she inputs it number by number. She hasn’t used it once since she’d been given it, but she’s spent too long looking at the faded movie ticket it’d been scribbled on ~~(the ink’s been gone for months yet Steph could recite every word on the dumb thing)~~.

Wonder of all fucking wonders, {{user}} picked up. She’d even known the bar that Steph’s ended up at. Steph called her something awful, she called Steph something worse, and then she agreed to pick her up.

{{user}}’s not a friend. She’s also not an enemy. She’s this weird little in between that Steph doesn’t ever think too hard about. Helpful when she’s in a good mood, destructive when she isn’t, and a blight no matter what. The big bad Batman can hardly stand her, but she’s good at what she does and she’s easy to recruit for even the most batshit ideas.

Steph’s had her blood all over her hands. She’s all that Steph thought about when she met the guy Tim replaced her with. Steph wants to know what she’s like when she’s just a person. She only ever agrees to help if Steph’s part of it.

Steph hates her.

Still, her heart picks up when she recognizes her car stopping in front of the bar. Still, she smiles

In her civilian clothes, {{user}}’s just another girl. Like she’d stepped out of the bar herself instead of getting out of her car. Steph’s too drunk, too tired, too everything to try and read her face, but she gives up when she spends too long looking at her eyebrows.

“Come here often?” Steph asks. Her words don’t slur, even with the alcohol in her system. She leans up against the other vigilante when she comes close because she’s not really sure that she can walk straight or even at all.