As Grayson pulled into the lot nearest the Rossum Building, Barbara shut the laptop. She had spent the long rush hour traffic ride searching for a name on Greg's hard drive. She couldn't comprehend an art history major frat boy running a new drug ring from inside GSU on his own. So far she had come up with nothing; either he was too smart to leave any trace of his boss's name, or too lazy.

They both stepped out of the car, Barbara already on route to the building's entrance. Grayson grabbed his leather jacket from the trunk, catching up to the red head with a few bounding steps. He passed his jacket to her. Without missing a beat, and both looking forward at their target, Barbara handed the laptop to Grayson as she took his jacket, swinging her bare arms into the soft, buttery leather. She convinced Grayson not to stop at home to change. She didn't want a chance of missing Greg stopping in for his daily meetup.

They both took a seat at a well placed bench: across from the courtyard entrance, close enough to see the two large wooden doors, yet angled appropriately that Barbara could see fully down the west side of the building while Grayson kept an eye on the crowds approaching from their left.

Barbara checked her watch. 9:38am. She figured they had at least two hours until they had a chance of their guy showing up. She already felt herself becoming antsy; she needed a distraction.

"About last night," she started in a quiet tone, unsure if Grayson would hear her over the bustle of the courtyard.

"Which part? The kiss, the apology, the you not forgiving me?" Grayson kept his eyes scanning the crowd; his tone was flat, but still had a spark of gaiety.

Barbara winced. She knew he was teasing her, but she felt guilt for not forgiving him in the hospital.

"I'm sorry. I'm not happy about what you did, and I may not fully understand it -"

"Gee, you're sure being awfully forgiving there," Grayson interrupted her. She quickly glared at him.

"It's part of the job, Grayson. The violence. I get that more than anyone else. You wouldn't have dragged me down." Barbara spat out. She wanted to believe what she was preaching, but felt a gnawing in her gut that she was lying.

"It's not just the violence, Babs." Grayson was still quiet; calm. "I did things, for him, that I thought was in the name of justice. Every time I put on the Robin suit, a part of who I was stopped being; and this numb, cruel thing took over. It sought out criminals and didn't care about finding true justice, but dealing out punishment on his behalf. I felt sick with who I was becoming." Grayson stopped talking. Barbara looked beside her, at her best friend, speaking in a way she had never heard before. He was sad over who he'd become over the years. She reached over, placing her hand over his. They sat in silence, her not knowing how to respond and him relishing her presence.

"I'm glad your back. And I'm glad you felt you could come back." She squeezed his hand in hers.

"Nightwing helps," Grayson stated. Barbara had never put thought in to the change of persona. She always assumed with Jason moving through the ranks, becoming Robin, it was just a natural movement for Grayson. Little did she realize the deeper psychological meaning it could have had for him.

Barbara turned to look at Grayson, who was looking over her shoulder. He spotted someone.

"He's here. At your 5. 4. Your 3. He's running." Barbara turned to see if she could spot Greg. He had a navy blue sweatshirt, gold writing; clearly a GSU hoodie. Tight sweatpants and sneakers completed his gym rat look. No hat, so Barbara could see his close cut, styled hair that he sported in his latest social media posts. He made a beeline for the Rossum Building, stopping at the corner. Leaning one hand on the brick, using his other to grab his foot, he started to stretch out his hamstrings. After a moment, he pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling through his notifications, while glancing at the entrance to his right.

Barbara stood up. With every step she took towards him, she saw Frankie's terrified look, pleading with her for help. Barbara was going to get answers. By any means necessary.

"Hey! Greg?" Barbara jogged the last few steps, raising her hand in a polite wave. Her voice was an octave higher, and she put on a slight inflection to every word. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

Greg looked up from his phone, taking out one earbud to hear her better. He was initially confused by her candor, but shifted into delight once he saw the pretty girl approaching him.

"Hey cutie-" Greg played along with Barbara's game, but was cut off when she wrapped her fist around his collar, yanking him around the corner, slightly hidden from the bustle of the distracted students running to class. She slammed his body into the brick wall, stunning him into silence. Her hand still gripped his collar.

"You're selling the drugs, right? Who's your supplier?" Barbara's voice shifted back to normal.

"What drugs?" Greg's voice sounded idiotic. Barbara cringed at the level of stupidity.

"Last night, at your frat's party, a girl ended up in the hospital, unconscious, because of the drugs you're peddling. So let me know who your boss is, and I'll settle this score with him." Barbara put more pressure on his throat. "Unless you're top dog, then I'll handle his right now."

Grayson watched her handy work. Tough, but graceful. Even swimming in his leather jacket, she looked powerful.

She slowly walked back towards the bench where he patiently waited her return.

"Well that was too easy," she said when she got in his earshot.

"Crane?"

"Oh, you read lips now too?" Barbara stopped, placing her hands on her hips.

"I've always read lips, Babs. More of an educated guess. But I'm right, right?"

"Yeah," she tried not to let her disappointment in herself trickle out in her tone. Of course it was Jonathan Crane. Who else would deal with moronic college students as thugs, and lead trails of fear in their wake. "He sang like a canary. I barely had to touch him."

"Did you get a location?" Grayson stood and the two walked back towards the car.

"Negative. He didn't know anything passed the name. I don't even think he realizes who Crane is. He just meets here for someone to come out of Rossum, hand him the drugs, and then he deals it out. He says it's a different person every time so he doesn't know who the middle man is. So obviously the lab in Rossum is producing the drugs. But Crane wouldn't be stupid enough to work out of it himself, right?"

"So I'll pick you up tonight? Recon the building. See if we can get inside the lab, maybe find more intel?" Grayson took the words out of her mouth. It felt good to have them working together again. And to think, she was going to keep this fun all to herself.