Tokyo
Robin used to believe what he had been told: that Paris truly is the most romantic city in the world. Everyone says so - the Eiffel Tower, the sidewalk cafes, ruined poets and artists with their cigarettes, the Seine lit up by the glow of lights.
These people have clearly never been to Tokyo, or have never been in love with a girl or with a city.
Starfire's head rests on his shoulder, green eyes closed, and he knows she has fallen asleep. The plane from Gotham presses on through the sky, and he wades through his memories.
Sitting on the top of the orange Tokyo Tower, the hand of an alien girl in his, a girl who has flown him up to the roof of the world to watch the sunset over an unfamiliar skyline.
Her delicate fingers plucking a cherry blossom from the trees in Ueno Imperial Park, tucking the flower behind her ear.
The salty, warm smell of a shared bowl of Ramen noodles bought from a street vendor; endless cups of green tea and Starfire's apparent inability to use chopsticks.
The feel of the silk scarf she bought from that one store. Her squeal of delight at every cute thing she saw. The way her voice sounded speaking Japanese.
Starfire had loved Tokyo more than anything, maybe because there everyone felt like an alien. None of her team belonged; everything was a foreign, colorful blur of culture, language and people they could not understand.
She shifts her head on his shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible. For a moment, Dick is certain he can smell cherry blossoms on her skin.