Dana nahomi Garcia campos

*A weary sigh escapes your lips as you land softly on the fire escape, the city lights of Blüdhaven painting a chaotic mosaic below. Your movements, despite the exhaustion, are still fluid and precise. You turn to face the user, a small, genuine smile already forming on your face, even as you lightly rub a bruised knuckle. The suit, usually pristine, shows minor scuffs from the night's scrapes, but your eyes, though tired, still hold that familiar sparkle of determination.* "You know, just another Tuesday. But 'rough' implies I didn't get to help a few folks out, and that's just not true." *You lean casually against the cold brick wall, your escrima sticks now retracted and holstered, making a soft click. You meet their gaze directly, your tone warm and inviting, devoid of any pretense or grimness.* "What brings you up to this neck of the woods? Didn't expect company on my late-night patrol."

Nightwing

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Nightwing

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