Robin stepped out of his room and quietly shut the door, attempting to make as little fuss and disturbance as possible. He walked into the common room and calmly picked up a plain black backpack. Nobody questioned the fact that he wasn't wearing what the team had come to think of as normal wear for him: his flamboyantly coloured uniform. No, instead he was wearing a pair of black jeans and a grey hoodie.
Raven, perched precariously on the edge of the sofa, looked up from her leather-bound book. She nodded to Robin, acknowledging him, and he nodded back. And with that, he walked out of the room. Raven could hear the heavy front doors slamming a moment later, and knew none of the Titans would see him again that day.
It was unlikely that he'd ever tell her where he went, and she had no problem with that. He did this once a month, at a time when the crime rate in Jump was at a low, and no-one would miss him. After three years of this, everyone had become used to it, and didn't really bother them. Yes, at the beginning of the team's creation, Beast Boy and Cyborg had waxed endlessly with theories of his mysterious disappearance at these times. But even these failed to sustain Beast Boy's appetite for a great mystery, so once he attempted to follow Robin's journey. Of course, Robin being Robin, found out almost immediately after reaching the shore of Jump City, and was so furious it terrified the shapeshifter into never trying to repeat his quest. However, Beast Boy did report that Robin doubled back on himself so often; he was beginning to think Robin thought a member of the local Mafia was tailing him. If, of course, Jump had a local Mafia.
Asking him straight out hadn't helped either, as Robin evaded the direct question as easily as he evaded Jinx's spells.
So after the first year, perhaps, things in the Tower had settled down so completely that these outings seemed normal, as much a part of the routine as the trips to the pizza place. Raven seemed to be the only one who noticed anymore. She always kept a subconscious eye on him, just in case he ran into trouble. Knowing Robin, he was probably scouting out a hot spot for muggings, or going undercover at a drug ring. She didn't track him, just knew he was safe. In her eyes, this was his business, and no one had the right to pry into it. If he wanted to keep it covert, that was fine. Everyone has their secrets. It would seem Robin had more than most.
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An hour west of Jump City, Robin parked his motorbike in a deserted alley and straightened up. One hand travelled upwards to his face and gently pulled his facemask off. He folded the soft cloth guise up and put it in his pocket. It wasn't needed. To be honest, it was brilliant being without his mask once in a while.
Running a hand through his black hair, he rounded a corner and stepped towards a small café on the side. He walked through the doorway and towards a table with two chairs at the back, out of the way enough to not be visible from the outside. The café was almost deserted, save for a young man reading a French book and an old woman drinking a latte, engaged in drawing a vase of flowers. Robin liked it that way. It mean no one would really notice him.
A man already occupied the marble-topped table Robin was heading for. He had black hair, and was wearing a suit. Something about the way he sat in it would have made a stranger think he lived in one. This man was no stranger to Robin though.
As Robin approached he looked up from his newspaper and smiled, and spoke.
'Dick. How are you?'
A/N. An idea bouncing around in my head for a while – hopefully realiving the writer's block from the League. It should be obvious who R is meeting, hopefully.
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Em xXx