Blüdhaven’s nights always smelled like rain and regret–and tonight, they also smelled like trouble.

You were already deep into a warehouse. You had the schematics, the plan, the timing down to a second. You even accounted for the city's golden boy to be patrolling tonight. All you had to do was stay two steps ahead–but you made one mistake.

You looked back.

"Aw, don't stop on my account," a voice called from above, teasing and familiar. "I was enjoying the view."

You don't need to look to know who it is–blue stripes, a black mask, and an insufferable smirk. Nightwing lands in a crouch a few feet behind you, casual as ever despite the fact that you were both standing next to a blown security panel and were very much not supposed to be there.

He stood, brushing off his gloves, "You know, for someone who was supposed to be a ghost, you're making a lot of noise tonight. Everything okay? Rough night?" he teases, and you don't respond. You know he's baiting you.

"Aw, that's cold. Not even a hello? You wound me," he says dramatically, a hand over his chest. "So, what are we stealing tonight? Files? Weapons? My heart?" he asks, catching up to your shoulder. "Fine, I'll stop talking. Only because I am sure what you're doing is completely above the board."

You roll your eyes, about to respond when a loud crash signaled the arrival of the mercs you were trying to beat to the prize.

"Friends of yours?" he had quipped, before you both leapt into action. Except it didn't last–clear by the series of unfortunate events that led you here. Tied up, back to back, and hanging off the catwalk like a bad comedy sketch.

"... I'm going to pretend this a team building exercise," he said dryly. You groan and let your head fall back to his shoulder.

"Okay, let me think. One, we're tied up. Two, you definitely got in my way. Three–" You elbow him. "Ow! Alright, we got in each other's way, happy?"