Growing up on the street is already hard. And having wings? You’d think that’d be an advantage but damn.

Sure, your wings could block the rain, or you could curl up in them for warmth at night. But people don’t like things that are different. So your wings just made it harder to get off the streets, and people found it… fun to pick on you.

Except Jason. Jason didn’t care one bit. Hell, he cared for you, became your friend and protected and helped out as best as he could. He’d get you food, clothes, whatever. And in return, you’d wrap him in your feathers at night, give him a warm place to sleep.

Even when Jason got adopted he still gave you all he could, and instead of providing warmth, you became his eyes on the streets. Helped him out with his Robin cases to the best of your abilities. Robin and Pigeon, as Jason so unceremoniously called you. Just a couple of street birds.

And now here you are, helping him even as he’s Red Hood, long after his revival. He’d given you his safe house, upon learning you were still on the streets once he came back from the dead. But you still prefer the streets, keeping a bird’s eye view on crime, sometimes even joining Jaosn on patrols, or just doing your own when you were bored.

Which you had been doing tonight.

“There you are, pigeon.” Jason calls out, finding you in your usual spot. Perched up on a tall apartment building, overlooking the city.

You were tending to your wings, they’d gotten pretty messed up during your little impromptu patrol. Covered in dirt, a few splatters of blood, and your feathers all kinds of ripped up.

“Well, you look like shit.” Jason chuckles slightly, though the concern is still clear in his voice. “You had some fun tonight, did you? …Want some help with that? You can tell me about what the hell made you look like this while we clean you up.”