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There wasn't much whiskey left, so when Vic walked into her room in time to see her finish the handle, Raven knew it'd seem more dramatic than it was. But he didn't say anything to her, looking instead around her room quietly, and she watched him through her mirror's reflection. Eventually, Vic stopped behind her and regarded her coolly through the mirror.

"He started it," Raven said, sifting restlessly through her makeup bag until she found her eyeliner. "Thinks I'm going out just to get attention, like to spite him, or something," she scoffed and started drawing sharp black wings along the lash line of both eyes, "because that sounds just like me, right?"

When Vic remained quiet, she frowned, "Are you just gonna stand there?" He returned with a calculated fold of his arms across his chest. Impatient and exhausted.

"Don't look at me like that," Raven warned, swiveling to face him. "Just before you came in, he and Roy were joking about going out to find fangirls to fuck around with so what business is it of his what I'm do?"

Vic's tilted his head skeptically, and as much as it infuriated her, she agreed. Even just saying out loud, Raven knew that was a useless thing to try and justify.

"I get it, alright? This whole thing is getting old for you guys. Gar...he's the one who said we wouldn't, but by then, I don't know." Looking up at Vic almost defensively now, Raven's words rushed from her lips with annoyance, "I was ready to try."

Raven kept his gaze, her skin flushing from the whiskey and dangerous ease of her words. Her jaw clenched as if to let him know that she's said enough.

Vic proceeded to sit on the edge of her slipper chair as she followed him attentively. He studied the cream-colored sheepskin rug she sat on with his big bear eye, and Raven began rustling through her bag for her mascara, agitated beneath her calm surface.

"Remember Adonis?"

Raven hesitated. A sudden image of the obnoxious red battlesuit came to her mind, specifically split open, revealing the scared and vulnerable man inside like the broken yolk of an egg.

However, soon enough, her arms were lined with goosebumps as she remembered the dense weight of that battlesuit, as Adonis pinned her against the cold pavement of that warehouse. She recalled, even though the light above him blackened his features, she could still see his wild smirk looming over her, flexing his artificial strength. But the next time she would see him, he'd keep her down with claws, the strength now all his own. Raven heard him growling in the distant echoes of her memory, feeling the searing pain of his teeth through her flesh, moments before Garfield would find them.

Raven's eyes flashed to Vic's soberly. "Of course I do."

"After that first time he turned, what freaked Gar out the most wasn't the fact that he was suddenly going feral, blacking out, rampaging and kicking our asses all over the place. And I mean letting go years of pent up aggression in the process and on some level, I know he needed that. But, none of that made Gar sick like thinking he hurt you. He hated himself for it. Almost lost it watching over you til you woke up, promising to leave the Tower for good if you didn't. It fucked with him, man. Worse than I've seen. Still does a bit, I think."

"He knows it wasn't him," Raven told him, her voice full of grief, "he saved me from Adonis. He knows that. He never hurt me."

"And," Vic's eye slid to hers, a smile weak on his lips, "you know you've never hurt us. Not once. Not really."

"Vic, it's not the–"

"Have you noticed that it only comes out for you?" It took Raven a second to understand he meant Gar's feral state, and instinctively, she shook her head with a strange, doubtful grin. "Really. Adonis, Trigon, Cinderblock, Psimon...when you've gone down bad in a fight, Gar loses it. Like this 'beast' mode's his best bet of helping you, and it's an emotional trigger, like yours. My point's that Gar might get better than anyone the war you fight with yourself, so you might need a different excuse for being scared to let him in."

Raven stared at him with wide and wary eyes, her mouth open like she hoped the right thing would fell out, but her daze persisted. And so Vic gave her a thin, tight-lipped smile before he stood up, making his way slowly across her room.

"It's all gonna be good, Rae, in the end." He told her through the mirror's reflection. "Believe me?"

At this, Raven's face softened back to life, and she nodded for him. Then with another moment of thick silence, Vic left her bedroom and closed the door.

He did his best to quiet the feeling of guilt that turned in his gut while the elevator took him to the Tower's top floor. He worried he spoke too much out of place on Gar's behalf, but Vic also knew it went better than his original plan to let Raven have it. Though in a way, he still did, but instead gave a much more discreet delivery. Either way, what was said has been said, and he can only hope Raven caught what he was throwing at her.

Scrutinizing his hazy reflection in the elevator doors before they opened, Vic adjusted his sport coat that fit a little too snuggly over his thin hoodie. It had been a couple of years since this particular piece of civvies saw the light of day, the last time being a bougie function at Wayne Manor for Dick, and Vic knew it'd probably fit better without the thin layer of hoodie between his button-up and blazer. However, having the option of a hood made him feel better if he were to find himself in an inconspicuous mood when they were out. Unlike his fellow Titans, it was a bit harder for him to blend into crowds, and while Vic enjoyed the occasional attention from appreciative civilians, he hoped tonight could be one to unwind, celebrate a successful mission and just be with his friends.

Faint music grew louder as Vic approached Garfield's room, and once he turned the corner, his eyes fell on a mess of playing cards scattered about some pillows and blankets, string-lights lit but tangled, and an old radio on its side in front of the tall-standing windows. It looked like what might have been a blanket fort before a herd of buffalo blew through.

"Gar?" Vic yelled, knocking on the changeling's door while continuing to explore the rummage in the hallway. He heard Gar's voice call him in and was surprised to be hit with light steam from the bathroom that exhaled nodes of Irish Spring or Old Spice or one of those oaky, floral body washes. The dude had showered, which Vic knew was a good sign. "Where you at, B?"

Gar emerged from the bathroom with his cuffed black chinos on over his nanotech baselayers, in the process of fastening up a white button-down shirt.

"My guy," Vic beamed as he pointed to the black blazer printed with subtle patterns of palm trees pineapples that laid across Gar's bed, "that's the party blazer."

"Lookin' sharp, my guy!" Gar grinned, walking over to brush the non-existent dust from Vic's shoulder.

"Boy, we're sure spruced up for Antonio's. He won't know what to do but serve us up his finest pies on the house." Gar chuckled and buttoned his shirt to the top collar.

"They say dress for the pizza you want," Gar said before undoing a couple buttons. "And papa wants a gentleman's veggie tornado supreme."

Vic smiled uncomfortably at Gar through the mirror, "So, you're good?"

"Yeah, Cy," Gar told him, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. "Club's big enough for both of us."

Vic twisted his face into a doubting smirk. "No it's not."

Gar chuckled and went to pick up his blazer, tossing Vic his phone in the process. The screen lit up a missed call and unanswered message from Raven.

Come out tonight. Won't be worth the dress if you don't.

Gar smirked while he pulled on the coat, and despite Vic's relief, there was a hint of uncertainty in his gut as his own words echoed between his ears.

Believe me?