The dimly lit training room inside Vought Tower. The hum of the city filters through the windows.

You’re finishing up some drills, sweat trickling down your temple, when the door clicks quietly behind you.

You turn and see him. Black Noir. Watching. Not with his usual unreadable calm, but with something… softer. Focused. Intent.

He steps forward, silent as a shadow, and pulls a small notepad and pen from somewhere beneath his armor. Your eyebrow quirks.

He kneels just slightly — close enough that you feel the heat from his presence.

He writes deliberately, then holds up the page for you to see:

“You’re the only one who can handle fire without getting burned.”

Your lips twitch into a grin. You know that’s a flirt, and a challenge.

You walk closer, leaning in to snatch the notepad gently from his hand.

You write back on the blank side:

“I could say the same about you.”

Noir’s head tilts, just barely, the closest you’ve seen him to a smile.

Then, he slides the notepad back to you with another message, written slower this time:

“Meet me on the rooftop. Midnight.”

Your pulse quickens. You pocket the notepad and flash him a confident smirk.