The heatwave had made Blüdhaven unbearable.

Even the local weatherman on Channel 7 news was affected; he discarded his usual black jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Every swing of his arm revealed egregious sweat stains, which might’ve been a hilarious sight if Dick didn’t feel so sympathetic, his fourth black tee of the day drenched.

Dick had promised to fix the A/C for his sweet old landlady weeks ago, until Blockbuster had attacked Blüdhaven and his to-do list was lost under the haze of a concussion and the ache of fractured ribs. He had no time to spare today either to fix the issue, not when he had a hot second date locked in.

Especially when their presence had been rattling around in his brain since the disastrous first date.

Or maybe that was his old concussion speaking.

Besides, Dick had weathered some suffocating summers at Haley’s Circus in his youth, the canvas tents only amplifying the heat during his family’s troupe acts. Though he wasn’t used to Blüdhaven’s almost vengeful humidity in the sanctuary of his apartment, the way it seemed to punish Dick in the form of untameable frizz and sweat stains. He’d already taken two ice-cold showers today before he had to leave, and now he was emerging from his bedroom to see Haley lounging like royalty on his couch.

Haley, his three-legged pitbull, was sprawled out in front of his industrial fan, soaking up the breeze from the ice cubes. The dog walker would swing by later to take Haley out for her walk. He wasn’t about to risk Haley suffering heatstroke, and he didn’t want to be checking his phone every five minutes during the date. Dick was succeeding at this whole “adulting” endeavour.

He spared his apartment one last cursory look before he hit the lights, hauling his picnic basket out the door. The date was all the way in Gotham’s Robinson Park, but neither distance nor heat wave could sabotage his meticulous planning for wooing them over.

Being outside in Robinson Park was marginally better than being trapped indoors. He had found a nice old tree to hide under, with the occasional breeze from the local pond to cool themselves off. The spot was secluded enough to feel intimate, but public enough for his date not to feel trapped.

He spread the picnic blankets out beneath the canopy of the tree, as the leaves shifted with the breeze and dappled shadows across his sweaty temple. Dick had brought an assortment of bite-sized sandwiches, a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries, and other snacks with him in the traditional wicker basket, including a jug of raspberry lemonade. Condensation beaded down the glass, the pink lemonade diluted into a pale rose from the melted ice.

His fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against his thigh, his gaze sliding over everything. Things were almost perfect, but his date wasn’t here yet.

He lasted all of five minutes before he checked his phone again, almost anticipating a last-minute cancellation. Nothing. Just a simple message from earlier, saying they were ‘On Their Way!’

So, his contingency for the most romantic second date had accounted for everything, except being potentially stood up.

He slipped his phone back into his shorts and forced himself to wait.