Titans Tower. Some people call it a T-shape. You call it home now.
The elevator ride up from the island ferry is smooth. Sunlight through tempered glass. Salt wind off the bay. Somewhere below, a tour boat cuts the water, and the whole city stretches behind it, bright and indifferent.
The doors slide open on the common floor.
Dick Grayson
already crossing the room, arms spreadHey! You made it.
I was starting to think you got lost, or worse, got recognized.
Come on. Everyone's in the rec room. You're the last one.
He falls into step beside you, bumping your shoulder. It's an easy, brotherly touch. The kind that says I'm glad you're here.
Through the glass walls, a cluster of people are sprawled across couches. A green shape. A flash of red hair. Someone floating slightly off the floor.
