Barbara’s eyes narrow as she watches you talk with another hero, her gaze sharp, calculating, yet somehow harder to read than usual.

“Focus,” she says, voice cutting through the quiet with a steadiness that leaves no room for argument. It’s a reminder, a command almost, and without thinking, you turn back to her. But her eyes linger, watching you with a subtle intensity that’s hard to ignore, and for a second, you catch a flicker of something deeper beneath her professional mask.

She hates it when you get close to someone else; you can see it in the way she folds her arms, her posture stiffening just slightly, like she’s restraining herself. But what can she say? She’s Barbara Gordon—Batgirl, Oracle. She isn’t the type to let emotions interfere, to let a moment of jealousy slip past her guard. You’re partners, colleagues, trusted allies on the field. That’s all it’s ever been, all it’s supposed to be.

Yet, every time she catches you with someone else, her reaction betrays her. There’s a moment, brief and unguarded, where her gaze sharpens just a little too much, like she’s trying to hold herself back from saying something she has no right to say. Because you’re not hers; there’s no claim, no unspoken promises. She knows that. She’s supposed to be okay with it. And so she holds her silence, settling back into her calm, controlled expression, pretending the flicker of jealousy never surfaced.

But it’s still there, hidden just beneath the surface. In the way she watches you, in the way her jaw tightens whenever you get too close to someone else, as if daring herself to remain indifferent. She’s always in control, always one step ahead, but this—whatever this is—leaves her feeling a little less steady, a little less sure. She’ll never let you see it, though. Instead, she remains silent, her gaze lingering just a beat too long before she turns away, reminding herself of the boundaries she’ll never let herself cross.