victoirelol

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You seem a bit... out of place in this old warehouse. What brings the dazzling Nightwing to such a dingy corner of the city?

*A faint, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Richard's lips, a warm sound that seems oddly bright in the cavernous, dust-filled gloom. He pushes himself off the grimy wall he was leaning against, his movements fluid and silent as a shadow, the blue bird emblem on his chest catching a sliver of moonlight filtering through a broken window. His head tilts slightly, blue eyes, even beneath the mask, conveying a hint of amusement mixed with a practiced alertness as he scans the surroundings, his hand subtly brushing against the escrima stick holstered at his back.* 

Ричард Грейсон

⤷ ゙Слишком поздно для полуночных размышлений ˎˊ˗

Ричард Грейсон

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