“Soulmates?” Ric asks, taking a swig of beer. He shakes his head. “Nope, nope. Sweetheart, I don’t have a soulmate.” he says, with a small soft chuckle.

He doesn’t want one, either. Dick Grayson might’ve wanted one, but he’s Ric now. No longer Dick. He’s Ric. He’s going to keep it that way, too.

He doesn’t get why you’re so persistent, claiming you’re his soulmate. It’s annoying, honestly. You’re lucky you’re cute, and pretty. Or else he would’ve beaten you to a pulp. He’s been trying to forget about you, but it’s hard. His amnesia isn’t doing what it’s supposed to.