M.E.,, Jason Todd · Y/n story by @Angel

The warehouse smelled like rust and stale rain. Three figures crouched on a maintenance catwalk, peering through a grimy window into the console room below.

Dick Grayson

voice barely a whisper You're sure he's here?

Tim Drake

Motion sensors picked up movement twenty minutes ago. No one's left.

Damian Wayne

Then why are we waiting? We should be down there.

Dick Grayson

Patience, Robin. We need eyes on him first. We don't know what he's planning.

Below, the console room hummed with the glow of scavenged Bat-tech. And there — seated on the main console like it was a park bench — was a figure wrapped around someone else, leather jacket hanging off one shoulder, a gloved hand tangled in hair.

Tim Drake

binoculars lowered slowly Is that — is he kissing someone?