Summary:Orphan and Phobos head out to investigate one of the locations Batgirl pointed them at and run into some strange goings on. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Technically, Alexander should be studying. Monday there is to be a presentation and he found himself a part of a group of four that were tasked with gathering information on the primary benefits needed for an ancient culture to thrive and after the initial round of research the Olympian youth had come back with the response, "City Walls. Duh."
To which his classmates sort of stared at him. "Well. What? You guys never play Civilization?" He looked between them, "Walls give you three times defense power if anyone should attack. Big deal in the early part of the game."
He nodded, "City Walls."
Needless to say they didn't return his texts and so he found himself with some free time which left him alone in his room. His roommates had already taken off to enjoy the evening and he'd waved after them when they left. Then he had shut the door and pulled out the leather and kevlar suit that he had gained from a friend. Sure it would serve as is, and had been created with his exact measurements in mind. But it had one last thing.
Thus, did Alexander take a needle and thread from his end table, a little sewing kit on his lap as he sat on his bed in his white t-shirt and boxers. He had the shoulder of the armored suit pulled over his lap and with a spare needle held in his teeth he was slowly. Slooooowly, trying to attach a tiny pink and black patch of a kitty's face onto the shoulder of that suit.
Cassandra Cain tends to be ninja-quiet. Honestly, some ninja are probably jealous. So Alex's first indication of her presence is likely the *taptapatap* against his window.
There's little more than a ledge outside, and in her Orphan costume, Cassandra is scrunched up on it in a crouch with one hand against the window, fingers splayed while the other does the tapping. Her cowl is off, but the hood is up which casts her face into shadows.
She'll see him look up, one eyebrow cocking curiously the split second before his synapses fire. And then his features light up with that immediate warmth of realizing it's her. Only for a cloudy haze to flicker over his face as he remember the circumstances of how they parted company last. But it's only a fraction of a moment before the affection wins out and there is nothing else there but happiness to see her.
The small sewing kit is set to the side, though a thread is still connected to the patch and the suit. He takes the needle out of his mouth and stabs it into the wood of his headboard, and slides out from underneath the armored black suit.
A quick two steps carry him to the window and he pulls it open with a grind of wood sliding over wood. Then he steps back to let her in. She might see the tension in the muscular line of his forearm as if he wanted to boop her snoot… but not sure if that's okay anymore. So his finger just lifts a little as that subconscious desire registers more with his body language than with his mind.
"Hi," His smile though… his smile for her. It's a thing given freely.
It's a good thing it's not raining at the moment. She'd look like some bedraggled kitten outside his window. Waiting. Or would that be a bat pup? Of course, she'd obviously just opened her window when she woke him up that night so why she didn't just come in tonight might be her own reaction to their parting the other night.
When Alexander opens the window though, there is no hesitation as she flows into the room. Her hands come up to push the hood back and without the cowl he can see the way she glances at him. Not in the 'checking him out' manner, but definitely taking him in. There's the faintest of smiles and then she reaches up to touch the tip of his nose lightly. "Hi." She returns.
Looking about the room, she points to his suit and nods. "Good." Before she pulls back part of one of her gauntlets where there's a small screen and the Oracle icon. Tapping it, a map comes up, with a glowing red dot and she gestures back and forth between the pair of them, before pointing at the blinky dot.
The blond teenager's nose crinkles at the boop but she can tell it is welcome, and some of that tension in his stance slips away as his smile broadens. He lowers his head with a nod when she gestures to the small screen, blue eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out exactly where that might be.
It's when she gestures between them that he nods to her and holds up a finger, "Gimme a second here?" And he takes those quick steps and hops onto the bed, sitting abruptly cross-legged and pulling the shoulder up. He grabs the needle and thread, bites his lower lip, and starts to try to speedily sew the patch into place. Sure the loops are a little larger than they probably should.
But time is of the essence.
As Alex accepts the gesture, even with the 'grimace', the set of Cassandra's shoulders eases.
The site is in Staten Island, unsurprisingly. That tends to be the Bat's stomping grounds. There might be details on his phone. Cassandra's gear is clearly designed to accommodate her lack of normal communication skills.
A nod is given, though Cassandra moves over to perch on the edge of his bed as Alex tries to hurry and finish his project. Amusement touches her features, seeing the pink cat head. The Fuchsia Feline?
His features color faintly, just a fringe of embarrassment as she sees the kitty face of pink on that black patch. But he tells her sideways, "It's so I remember when we met." Alexander says that matter of factly, with just the steady pronouncement as if to justify the fact that he's probably going to take some grief for it. But it's worth it. And it makes him smile.
A few quick loops, the needle working its magic as he attaches it to the shoulder. A few more through the other side as he draws it tight and then leans forward to bite the thread and tie off a tiny lil bit on one end. That done he sets the needled and thread off to the side and holds it up for her inspection.
"Good?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at her. Sure he'll need to probably redo it later since it'll probably fall off at some point. But for now it'll serve. He'll rise up after that and then pulls off his t-shirt, throwing it in the hamper near the door. Just with boxers now and his back to her, he'll begin the process of climbing into the form-hugging suit.
While Alex works, Cassandra leans over to watch what he's doing with apparent interest. The silence does make her a bit reminiscent of a cat and they'll watch their humans do something.
Luckily, she does not climb into his lap and flop down on his work.
Her head tilts a bit as he explains the why and there's a moment before she finally signs to him, "« Will there be more later? »" Of course, her words are a bit mixed up, but hopefully Alex picks up on the gist of it.
When he holds it up, she looks at it oh-so-seriously and then nods, giving him a thumbs-up before drawing her knees up and setting her chin on them to watch as he starts to dress.
It's like a wet-suit, so he's putting it on legs first, then the arms as he makes it hug the contours of his chest. He turns around towards her and bites his lower lip as he tries to figure out exactly how this should go. But he's got the legs properly rotated, and the leather harness and belts are in their needed location. Reaching his arms through his hands become visible as the gloves are one of the last things to go on.
"You mean like… a big kitty here?" He gestures to in the middle of his chest and shakes his head, the tips of his ears and cheeks coloring again slightly. "Nah, I think… just the patch." He points at it to help her get the right impression.
Then he walks over and sits on his bed near her with a jounce and pulls his black combat boots from underneath, drawing them on and tying them up. Once they're on he'll stop long enough to smile at her, meet her gaze, and then lift a hand to brush her cheek gently.
Turning his back towards her he'll look over his shoulder and asks her, "Would you mind?" And gestures with a fingertip towards that zipper that runs the length from the small of his back to the nape of his neck.
"Ok!" He hops up and over to grab his gloves and starts to pull them on, "Lead the way!"
Cassandra Cain continues to sit on her bed as she watches him work his way into the tight suit, but if she's impressed or amused by what she sees, it's hard to tell. At least she's not yawning!
His question gets a shake of her head and then a pause as she thinks on how to explain. "« Patch. Event. Many. »" She makes a gesture, as though progressing through time.
She finally stands as he turns around, getting up and moving over even as he asks for help. She's still got her gloves on, so he feels the brush of them against his skin as she takes hold of the zipper and slowly slides it up. He might have trouble getting out of it on his own. With Alex ready, Cassandra heads for the window again, and then up to the rooftop.
Unlike most of the Bat sorts, Cassandra doesn't have a Batcycle or Batplane or Batmobile or anything like that. So she makes do with public transportation. Just… not in the usual fashion. Alex might be wondering why they're headed towards one of the elevated train rails until Orphan makes the long leap to land on top of the train that's moving at full speed to get back to Staten Island.
A rush of movement is shared between them as he does indeed follow her lead, trying to never be more than three steps behind her and to maintain sight lines. He'll move after her, and when they ascend to that rooftop that gives them a good look out over the elevated train tracks… he'll shoot a glance to her just before she leaps.
Then that train comes roaring by and she's off into the air. No hesitation from him. She's first, and he's a fraction of second behind landing one car length further back on the train. He'll rise up and close the distance. Nodding to her once as they hunker down for the trip. It's certainly… cheaper.
The patrol started from there, once the train crossed the river and to Staten Island. It was a sweeping view given to them and they moved toward that flashing dot on the display, closing the distance steadily. Were she alone it might have been faster, since Alexander had no rope nor grapple line. But they were able to make it before the timer expired. Landing upon a nearby rooftop.
Alexander crouched on the edge of it, casting his gaze downwards.
Cassandra Cain has a bit more to do than she typically does, since Nightwing voiced the request for help in his stomping grounds. It gave her a great excuse to avoid Alex for a bit and the complicated Feelings he drags to the fore.
But having company is… nice. Maybe she should get him a bright little bird suit.
Cassandra keeps her position on the train easily, and it's not hard to believe she's done this quite a bit. She's pulled her cowl back on so she has access to her HUD to chase the bright bouncing ball and the wind blows her hood back. When they get to their destination, she looks back to him with a cock of her head to see if he's going to make the dismount and when she gets the nod she leaps off.
As they arrive on the scene, Orphan looks around, taking in the exits and then looks to Alex. She lifts a finger to her lips in a 'shh' manner and then punches a hand into her palm before giving him that questioning tilt of her head. How does he want to do this?
It's an old building, perhaps a storage facility, not as decrepit as some of the others in Staten Island, but nowhere near the locations that had a touch of gentrification before everything went to hell. Tall, brick, with a seemingly heave gash in one of the walls that opens up the first and the second floor. Though some slipshod repair has been done with cement and mortar though it already fails at the gaps and shows sign of decay.
But the third and fourth floors seem reasonably intact and it's up there that the lights are on. Though no halogen bulbs, that much from this far can be gauged. It's a flickering light, torch or flame of some sort.
Alexander frowns to himself then looks sidelong towards Orphan and gives a nod to her first few gestures, but at the last he touches two fingertips under his eyes, then makes a small circle in the air. They'll take a look around, and then decide from there.
And with that 'said' he leaps from their perch into the abyss that separates them from the further building. He drops and drops, and catches an old spigot from a cistern mounted on the roof of their target building, then starts to shimmy across it. Dropping down to the rooftop and moving silently across the way. Towards the skylight from where they might be able to see within.
Cassandra Cain gives Alexander a nod at his motion and as he parkours across, she makes use of her swinglines to get her over to the far side somewhat faster. It gives her time to give the roof a general once-over for any surveillance devices or cameras. Satisfied that so far, so good, she joins him at the skylight and carefully peeks over the edge.
The torchlight seems to come from a pair of large men that are walking slowly around the top floor of that building. Each of them have scoped rifles, one of them with it in hand while the other with it slung over his shoulder. Their features are dark, swarthy and severe, expressions edged as they follow their path and lingering near the windows to cast a sweeping gaze over the grounds. Then they resume their route, stepping around the piles of garbage and broken furniture, ignoring the detritus.
As quickly as he sees it, Cassandra likely sees it as well. The blond youth lifts his eyes to her, his lower features hidden by a better mask that's pulled up over his mouth, apparently part of that armored suit he now wears. Now in the field she can see how well it fits him, how suited for him it is. Even if that tiny splash of pink might cause a smirk now and again.
He gives her a nod, pulls open the leaded glass pane and slips inside. Dropping to the floor he lands silently, then steps quickly to slip behind a column that the two men are about to pass… he'll wait for her to get in position…
And once they're ready he'll slip behind the first man as the other is looking away… and quickly secures him around the neck, forearm sliding into place and hand locking against the back of his head. There's a tightening of pressure…
And the man is out, dragged away from his friend who still hasn't noticed.
Orphan peeks in, glancing to Alexander as though to say 'am I doing this right?' She doesn't tend towards a lot of prep in her encounter, so when they take this time she tries to figure out what it is that Alex finds of most use.
Once he nods and opens the way, she slips through and virtually disappears. Between the shadows and her skills, it's almost like she can pull a Batman and disappear if you look away. It also means he'll just have to trust she's got her end of things. As Alex hears a soft *thump*, it sounds like she has.
Moving the bodies is honestly one of the hardest parts. Cassandra can punch like a piledriver, but she's not actually super strong or anything, and these guys are big. As she rejoins Alex, she gives a soft grunt of annoyance.
Again there's that nose crinkle given to her, likely heralding to her amazing senses that he's about to tease her, which he is. And so he does when he casually flexes his arm and taps a finger on his bicep, then points at her and holds up a thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart as he shakes his head with a feigned look of sadness. He so big. She so smol.
But then his grin twists and he glides low across the office floor, finding what's left of the staircase leading down. Down down.
Over the railing they can see holes in the next few floors where something either crashed through or was dropped far through the wooden floors. They can see all the way to the cement foundation… but the stairwell continues further down into the basement.
He begins the descent, listening as he moves, keeping an ear out as they head downwards. And as they get closer they'll hear…
Chanting?
There's the sound of a soft snort at Alex's insinuation. Orphan holds up one hand with one finger raise, and one finger with another finger raised and holds them out a bit apart. They've both taken one down each. She points towards the stairs. They'll just see who has the higher score at the end.
Though the floor looks to be clear, the pair move in a sort of silent tandem towards the staircase. Looking over the edge, down, down into the darkness where the chanting rises up, she glances over to him and points to the stairs and then to the hole. Floor by floor or skip to the end?
The nod he gives to her has a hint of challenge to it, as if to say 'indeed' in their silent language shared. But that doesn't stop them from keeping their focus on the task at hand. They move together smoothly, each making sure to consider one angle while the other looks in another. He holds onto the hand rail as he descends and shakes his head at her first gesture.
Nobody seems to be on the lower three floors, the place is such a wreck that the men would have to be hiding from them or expecting them to come through. No further guards seemingly as they reach the landing just before the basement. But then they'll hear the chanting and he points in the direction of the final flight of steps…
And once they make that final descent stepping down the metal emergency stairs and to the door…
Suddenly it's like walking into another world. For that metal stairwell curves around and opens onto a large metal balcony with a grating for a floor. A balcony that looks down upon an underground tableau that seems like it's partially mined and partially a cavern, some thirty feet down and in the shape of a very rough cube. Stalactites cling to parts of the ceiling, and stalagmites stab upwards from the floor. To their left another metal series of steps are stabbed into the wall like someone threw them with great strength. It leads down in a roundabout way to what looks like… a broad open floor with four pillars standing tall connecting the floor to the ceiling.
But what is more upsetting is the group of seven men standing there, some in formal attire, some in jeans and t-shirts, and one with a large coat. Smaller people in robes are hunched over what looks like a pool of blood as a heavy set man has apparently been slain with a colour indicating it was likely an hour ago. His throat torn out by some implement, and the two robed beings are soaking up the spilled blood with rags.
While behind the 'throne' where the killing was most likely done… another man is being brought forth who is trembling and pleading for his life.
Alexander looks at her, assesses the situation. Then nods and just makes the short sharp gesture forward. 'Go!' He grabs the railing, and leaps over the side of it.
Cassandra Cain's grip tightens on the railing as they look over the tableau. If she'd been faster. Maybe if she'd come straight here instead of going to get Alex, maybe that man would still be alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The What Ifs cling to her and cause an uncharacteristic pause of uncertainty in the small woman.
It takes Alex's gesture to get her moving again, to pull her free of that self flagellation. With a small shake she jumps over as well and lets the doubts fade away for the purity of the moment.
The soles of her boots hit the floor, helping to soak the impact and the flex of her knees does the rest. Then she's turning that vertical movement into horizontal, charging towards the pleading man and those who hold him. A step, a push, and then she's flying through the air, aiming a kick at the first man and grabbing hold of his shoulder to help redirect her momentum as she comes down to throw an elbow at the other.
The other figure in black lands just a split second before her and breaks into a run, circling to the flank to back her up once again. They've gotten into this rhythm together when they fight. She goes straight in, towards the main target, to save the lives that need saving. Alexander breaks to the side, to cover and to gauge the response she's likely to get and then to move on those that would threaten her.
And when they hit… it's like a tidal wave washes over a beach full of precarious sandcastles.
She feels the /crack/ from the impact of her boot into the side of the head of the first man who was dragging that screaming bald man. Markings and tattoos circle the victims throat and under his eyes as if he were prepared for this sacrifice by a heartless captor. The other guard who had been hauling him only has time enough to react, reaching into his coat for a pistol that he never has the time to draw as her elbow smashes into his temple and sends him down to the ground hard not to rise for a good long time.
Like a ripple going out from her strikes, awareness to those seven men in their various forms of dress all react. The one in a suit pulls out a pistol and starts to take aim, while another has a sawed off shotgun that he pulls from his coat. Those are the ones.
Alexander locks onto them and leaps into the fray from the flank, blind-siding the shotgunner with a painful knife hand strike hard and up into his under arm, causing his entire body to go numb from the nerve shock as his heart skips a beat. Spinning in place, the Pink Kitty's foot lashes out and smashes the shotgun while it flies in the air even as he continues around with that same momentum to crash a fist into the face of the other gunman.
She is safe at range, even as Alexander turns his back on her, trusting she can handle those two smaller robed beings who abruptly look up and affix Cass with blazing red eyes. Eyes that glow eerily in faces that look like the faces of enraged old men whose hair and flesh hasn't been washed in decades. Greasy, furious, and as one they pull those rags they had been dragging through the blood. Not cleaning, but marking their hats in the gore of a man's death. Long crimson hats now that they fix to their head as they each draw nasty razors from under their robes and start towards her…
Not a challenge to her Alexander might think. But he has no idea how… disturbing, and almost mesmerizing their eyes may be.
Cassandra Cain doesn't need to look back or check to see if the bodies hit the floor when she strikes them. She's almost like a surgeon with her hits, precisely where she wants them and just hard enough to put them down without killing them. Her gloved hand grabs the collar of the bald man, turning him and giving him a bit of a push towards the stairs. "Go." And then she's turning to the red-eyed men.
The eyes are unusual enough to set her back a moment, weight settling onto her back foot as she brings her fists up in a defensive stance. Her gaze slides up from their gruesome hats and the razors that come out and then back to their eyes. She blinks, and then realizes they're almost on her, time lost in those glowing orbs and she stumbles back a step and then pushes forward. Less thinking, more doing. They look old and fragile, and so when she strikes out at them, she pulls them more than usual.
They seem to move in blurs and stutters, one moment standing still, the next vibrating with a malefic hateful gaze that gives that quivering an intimidating aura when combined with the glow from their eyes. When she lashes out at one it almost feels as if her movements were slowed by a miasma in the air, like punching through molasses.
And all the while they seem to whisper to her, begging her for her blood, as if it was the most sensible thing in the world for her to give it to them. After all they mean her no harm. They just want her blood. They want it spilled on the floor. Her blood. Her BLOOD!
But Alexander sees none of it at first as another charges him and strikes out with the butt of a shovel trying to floor the young Olympian. He catches the haft on the backswing and twists it in the man's grip letting it carry on through to brain him and slam him to the ground.
"Stop them! Get them!" The one man in the finest suit turns and runs toward the back of the room where another door awaits, yet as he strides off a small ceramic disk falls from his coat and clinks to the ground, rolling and rolling and rolling.
There's a laugh behind him as he hears one of those Redcaps giggling and slashing at her with its razor blades. Only then the situation clicking for him. His eyes widen.
Too far. The man is fleeing even as two others tackle him in his moment of indecision. Alexander falls to the side, striking down with an elbow and buying himself a second. His bright blue eyes flash WHITE as he calls out, "No!"
And suddenly in his hand is the silver-bladed sword that he lifts and throws aloft into the air… toward Cassandra.
The whispers fill Cassandra's head like bees buzzing about, words that have no meaning and yet she knows what they *want* and that fact alone makes her heart pound like a drum and kindles fear inside her. There's nothing that should convey their intent to her in ways that she'd understand but there's just that *feeling* and it's terrifying, moreso than the disorienting difficulty she has in trying to fight them.
Her pulled punches move impossibly slow, and do little more than nudge the old men. And then the world speeds up and those razors slice through her costume, opening smiling wounds that spill that blood they're so enamored with. She jerks back, trying to buy some space but the world's slowed down again while they seem to speed up. She brings her arms up, the extra armor in the gauntlets helping to defend against the blades as she's pushed back and back and back.
Alex cries out and she rolls to the side, finally buying some space between the lurching acceleration and deceleration of time she experiences as that bright sword comes arcing towards her. Her hand snaps up, catching it perfectly as the redcaps dive for her again.
The sword fits her hand perfectly, humming with a strength that she can feel rush through her. There is no such thing as fear. For she can see these creatures clearly. They are old and weak and beings from another place who cling desperately to some semblance of relevance. Preying upon any that they can. Any that can't /see/ them. But she can. Now.
Clearly.
She can see the rage in them as they realize that she is looking at them. Where they are. Can see all of the horror and corruption that makes their weak form and how their beautiful razors are nothing but rusted metal strips that they bring around to try and strike her with…
Only for their weapons to shatter upon the strike, the fragments slashing into their faces as they reel, their bloodied hats spattering the ground with the blood of the innocent as well as their own.
Alexander rolls on the ground, legs locking around the throat of one of the men while he quickly grabs the other and pulls him down /hard/ into an arm-bar that he does not hesitate to use to shatter the man's elbow. Rising up then slams his elbow into the head of the other, stealing the man's consciousness from him.
Then he's up and moving towards Cassandra.
The words wash away. The fear washes away. The disorientation washes away. The world becomes crystal clear.
Grasscutter is is brought up defensively against those blades with an easy, fluid motion and shatter, sending shrapnel flying back towards them and carves bloody ribbons in their withered flesh.
And then Alex is coming in from the side, taking down the pair of red-eyed redcaps and washes the world in a golden glow like dawn breaking upon the city. It isn't just the shine of his hair or the flush of his skin, for Cassandra there is a literal glow that overwhelms the sickly, sticky red of the redcaps that emanates from him and seems to warm her skin.
Cassandra pauses, looking down at herself and then back to him, lifting a hand as though she could touch the radiance.
The redcaps slither apart like a thousand snakes all crawling away into the ground at once, their forms discorporating in a rush as the blade steals their power with the shattering of their weapons. It leaves her there amongst the chaos and the carnage, though with him standing so near it is likely hard to see anything save him.
But now as he looks to her, his features are the same. The same smile, that same look of concern. But the eyes are brilliant and white, glowing as if laced with power. A golden afterimage seems to exist around him, like some sort of future or older version of him, taller, stronger, surrounded by that gleam.
Yet when she looks closer there are small touches of darkness. Twin fangs that make him seem close to something feral. Small pin pricks of crimson light where his irises should be. And at his core, above his heart, is what seems to be a wound of such darkness that it weeps under her sight.
His voice seems to echo faintly as he extends a hand toward her, "I'm sorry. I should have paid more attention." As if the world around them was all there was and ever would be.
Cassandra Cain can be dropped into a room with twenty trained and armed men without any preparation and put them down without they landing a hit on her. The heat of combat, the roar of battle, tracking an infinite number of things at once, that doesn't overwhelm her. But this… this she has no real frame of reference for.
With the redcaps' forms discorporating and the rest of the room taken care of, there's nothing to detract from Alex as he fills her vision. Her hand with Grasscutter eases down to her side and her other hand comes up to pull her cowl off so she can see him without the HUD. Her features show her confusion and there's also some measure of awe, even if she's not sure what that emotion that rocks her back on her heels is.
When Alex extends his hand, she looks down to it and then takes a tentative step forward, until she's close enough to touch him and she reaches up her own hand to to take his, but to oh-so-lightly touch that weeping darkness amidst the warm glow. Finally, her gaze shifts back up to meet his, shifting back and forth between each of his eyes.
Alexander's features soften as she steps forward and takes his hand. His smile broadens a little even as that afterimage silhouette mirrors his movements perfectly. His fingers interlace with hers gently as they step close and for a moment the world sees to shrink down to just each other.
Gone are the fallen, the villainous, the profane. Gone is the rest of the world that lays such claim upon them. Gone is all ill that exists beyond them.
It is just her, and him. The feeling of his breath across her cheek, the purity and strength of that blade in hand, and the way he looks at her with such adoration. Such love. That when she reaches out to touch his chest, it makes the small darkness there retreat and fade. Just from her being so near.
And yet Alexander has no idea how she sees him. What she sees him as. For him it is a shared moment as she'll feel his hand rest upon the grip of the sword ready to take it should she surrender it. And when he does so, the sword slipping from her fingers…
He returns to normal in front of her and then whispers softly. "I was worried about you."
For that moment, bathed in the glow of his divinity, being the subject of his adoration of his love doesn't scare her. Doesn't twist her emotions and dredge up the guilt, the reminder that she deserves nothing so good as Alex's love. Nothing so good as Alex.
Cassandra easily surrenders the sword to him, her practiced grip relaxing, scarcely noticing or caring that she's being disarmed even if it's by someone she trusts, lost in the clarity of the moment. And then the blade leaves her and the glow dies away. The world presses back in with it's dirt and its grime, the coppery stench of blood and decay thick in her nose and the only light there is Alex, with his golden hair and bright blue eyes and open smile, touched by smudges of dirt. He can see the shift in her. The widening of her eyes, the touch of confusion. Her gloved hand touches his cheek, wiping away one of the smudges.
He lowers his eyes and his cheeks colour with a blush as she brushes that small smudge away. "Come on." He says softly, fingers interlaced with hers and he gives a small squeeze. "We should go tell Batgirl." He on some level knows she might not understand what he's saying, but perhaps he's more saying it for himself. To keep himself from being distracted.
And then he looks up only to find her beautiful brown eyes seeking his. For her to seemingly be looking at him differently… to be /seeing/ him. She can see his eyes softening and then be able to read that desire. He wants to kiss her again, as she saw him that time since past. As she's seen from those people who walk in the parks and hold hands together.
There is no disguising his feelings from her.
Then the sword flickers from view, fading out of reality as quick as it was summoned. He leans closer, his eyes holding hers before they close…
And then he gently touches the tip of his nose to hers. A small sign of affection before he tilts his head to the side and whispers again. "C'mon."