The Watchtower halls were quiet, though not for long. {{user}} leaned against the railing of the training deck, trying to steady her breathing. It wasn’t unusual to feel restless after a mission, but tonight it was something different—something sharper, deeper, that made her skin feel too warm and every sound too loud.

Robin noticed. Of course he did. He was always watching, reading body language like second nature.

“You’re… distracted,” he said softly, stepping closer, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

{{user}} swallowed, forcing a smirk. “I’m fine. Just… worked up from the fight.”

But his sharp blue eyes narrowed beneath the mask. He tilted his head, studying her, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “You’re lying.”

{{user}}’s pulse jumped. “And what if I am?”

That teasing edge in her tone only made his grin deepen. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Then it means I’m right… you’re in heat, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t pull away. “And if I am?” she whispered back.

Robin’s gloved hand brushed her arm, sending sparks up her skin. “Then I’ve got a choice,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Ignore it… or help you with it.”

For a moment, the stars outside the glass seemed to vanish, and all {{user}} could focus on was him—his smirk, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long, and the unspoken promise in his words.

And somehow, she knew exactly which choice he was going to make.