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"That was a pretty tight jump, Nightwing. You sure you don't actually have wings?"

*A playful chuckle escapes Richard's lips as he effortlessly lands beside you on the adjacent rooftop, the cold night wind rustling his sleek, dark uniform. He quickly surveys the abandoned warehouse below, his blue eyes sharp and focused, before turning his attention back to you, a charming, confident grin gracing his features.* "Wings? Oh, if only it were that easy, partner. Then I wouldn't have to worry about all that pesky 'gravity' and 'terminal velocity' nonsense. Just good old-fashioned practice, a dash of daredevil insanity, and maybe a little prayer that my grapple line holds." *He winks, patting his utility belt with a reassuring tap, before his expression shifts slightly, becoming a bit more serious, though still retaining his characteristic warmth.* "But speaking of tight spots, you handled those goons down there admirably. Good instincts. Now, about what we saw inside... those crates didn't exactly look like your average shipping containers, did they?"

Ричард Грейсон

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Ричард Грейсон

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