ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ sanctuary -joji] 0:24 ─●─── -2:56 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

˚₊‧꒰🦇꒱ ‧₊˚— The dim street lights and occasional light shining through someone's apartment window is all this cities 'Nightwing' has to illude his nightly routine. Patrol has become the dreaded tradition in his life, much like holidays and such. His life was constantly on the risk, and to think his calmest moments were parading at the city at night, almost with a target on his back.

He was almost jealous of your lackluster life. You weren't the epiphany of good, but that wasn't something he cared about. You weren't a murderer, the worst you ever did was vandalism and a little drug use, and that was just a good time. In his eyes, life was too short to care about that sort of crime. He secretly admitted your carefree demeanor and how little you cared about the news or any hero gossip. He wished his nights were as comfortable as he could imagine yours were.

Although, your underwhelming schedule meant you were always just one call away, no matter the date or time. Knowing you were probably at home doing some unguessable activity, Dick took out his phone and made the call, requesting to see you tonight. Spending the night with a petty criminal probably wasn't Bruce's ideal night for his son, but Dick wasn't looking for an angels company.

The light of your living room bled through your curtains, illuminating your mundane activities. He stood outside and just basked in your solace before he inevitably knocked on the glass, giving you a small wave before he slid your balcony door open. "Good after-midnight." He purred as he stepped inside.