"Hey, Red. You wanna introduce me to your friend?"

Jason jumped, his hand jumping to the gun that lay heavy against his hip. His palm brushed against the cold metal as he watched a familiar figure emerge from the darkness, his arm falling limp when he realised it was another one of Gotham's crime-fighting mask-wearing vigilantes.

Bruce hadn't scheduled patrol for him, but he couldn't sit inside for long. He donned his mask and his infamous jacket and wandered around till he found himself at an old hiding spot of his ─ the very top of Wayne Tower, legs dangling off the edge of one of the many stone-carved gargoyles. He remembered having a favourite one, back when he was Robin. It had been a strange attachment.

He scoffed, trying to brush off your sarcastic quip, but there was something about his expression under the mask that hinted at nerves. He had always liked you, for some unknown reason. He didn't know you past your masked identity, and he'd never been on a mission with you, but you had crossed paths half a dozen times. You were a good fighter. You were funny. He respected both of those things.

"Oh, I'm just here for the view."