Note: Half the challenge with this story is that i decided to write it in present tense when I've been used to writing in past tense my whole life. really set myself up for that one...
cw: language because jason
4. Calling in the Cavalry
"You should've heard her: 'Punctuality is a foreign concept to you or you got lost on the way here'," Jason mocks in a high-pitched tone.
Then he drops his voice back down to normal, slamming the microwave door shut a little too hard. "First of all, your highness, I was only seven minutes late, and second, we still made it with almost fifteen fuckin' minutes to spare."
Roy's laugh resonates from the phone set to speaker on the counter while Jason punches at the numbers. "What did she say?"
"I didn't actually say that, but I swear to God, Roy, you're gonna come back to me on a gurney 'cause my blood pressure went through the roof. Do you know how hard it is not saying shit back to her?"
"Why not? Nothing's ever stopped you before."
That's true, it's not exactly like Jason to turn the other cheek. (The last couple years can attest to that.) But it's a legitimate question to which he'd say that he's being overly generous, testing the waters, blah blah. How long is Sabina going to keep up with the unnecessary remarks and bratty attitude before Jason's finally had enough? What else can she come up with, insulting him without knowing a damned thing about who he is? His patience is thinning faster than ol' Bruce's hairline the more time he spends with her, yet…
Roy asks how it's been so far being Sabina DeKnight's bodyguard, aside from the neverending behavior problems.
Leaning against the counter and picking up the warm burrito, Jason responds, "I mean, there's not much to say. All she's gone to are meetings. She doesn't even have anything remotely fun planned until after the Saturday interview… At this point, I'm just begging for some crazed fan or thug to throw themselves at her. At least it'd shake things up a little."
The middle of the burrito is still cold. Fuck. He grimaces in annoyance while opening the microwave door again.
"Well, at least her attitude keeps things interesting?"
"Not in a good way." Jason hits the 'ADD 30s' button and glares through the little window as his midnight snack spins in place. "I can quiet the demon spawn by beating him up, but I can't do the same with her."
"Then just tell her to shut up."
"Roy, you don't understand, which is why your ass better be back in town before this weekend."
"What am I gonna do that'll be any different?"
"She'll have someone else to pick on."
"Oh, go to hell."
"Haven't you been listening? I'm already in it, asshole."
Hell is when this woman he barely knows dismisses him like an irritating piece of dust on her thousand-dollar blouse, but hell is also watching citizens as they run from an explosion in East End because the Falcones are up to no good again. Hell is crouching in dark corners to spy on criminal warlords' meetings and beating down petty burglars and traffickers — sometimes it's cold Big Belly Burger on an hours-long stakeout.
Jason has always been in hell, and it just happens to be that he came across new, uncharted territory with a whole show of giant, fiery curveballs all thrown by Sabina DeKnight herself. And he's willingly trekking through it.
As if it's not enough juggling the DeKnights on one hand, something is brewing in hell's criminal underworld and Red Hood has been out almost every night since starting the bodyguard contract to sniff it out. For now, he hasn't quite pinpointed who or what is happening, but it's all in the details and the pulse of a city he's worked hard to keep two fingers on — the mystery murders of seemingly random henchmen from varying turfs, rumors of something new moving sluggishly into Gotham's streets like a drug in her veins. Jason can feel it, he can sense his hometown is bending under new pressure … and it's not the high-profile family that just moved in.
The warehouse has been emptied out by the time Red Hood infiltrates it. How, he doesn't know, because he was convinced he'd walk into damning evidence of a drug trafficking op that's just getting started.
Well, shit, Jason muses as he takes careful steps around the perimeter. There's no way he got the date or location wrong, is there?
A speedy assessment of the bare building and thorough review of the data back in the bunker confirms his suspicions: the tip he came across was wrong or someone got a heads-up. Either way, it's really fucking annoying, and now there is very little chance he's getting any sleep.
The TV nearby, turned to some random channel, says something about "DeKnight," and his eyes snap toward it automatically. He meets the gazes in the still of Ariel and Sabina for a brief moment before hitting the button on the remote and turning his distracted attention back to the computer monitors. Unfortunately, Jason's concentration is shot now, jade-colored eyes filled with undisguised displeasure taking precedence over GCPD's log of criminal activity.
She's not even physically present yet somehow, she still manages to insert herself as a mere, pestering thought that won't leave him alone.
It's not long before the frustration simmers away into exhaustion and his eyes grow heavy. Jason slouches down in the recliner and throws his sweater over his face, not bothering to turn off the late news report about Gotham's mayoral election droning on. He may not have made it as far as he wanted tonight, but he's gotten a little better at knowing when something can wait for another day.
Besides, he needs to get as much rest as he can before his other job starts in the morning.
"Sab, that post—"
"I don't want to know."
A few seconds pass, then she huffs, "Two million?"
From where he lounges across the king-sized bed, Troy raises a brow at Sabina's reflection in the vanity mirror. For the third time since getting dressed, she's tackling flyaway hair that he swears only she can see in her tight, high ponytail. Typical.
"Three million likes and counting," he corrects. "You also just hit twenty-four-mill followers."
"Twenty-four?"
"Mhmm. You gained about 50k overnight."
The entire second verse of the hip-hop song playing quietly on her speakers passes before she meets his eyes in the mirror and asks, "Comments?"
He already knew she'd ask.
Troy recites from memory the email thread among Sabina's team members, which includes her mother and Kat. (And her father, by default.)
Sabina is trending nationally with Gotham, Batman, and Red Hood, in that order. People are sharing all their misguided interpretations of the caption, connecting dots that don't exist between the DeKnight family's move to the city's big-name vigilantes:
The heiress is obviously a fan of the infamous Batman, but since he wasn't interested in being hired as security, Red Hood got the job instead.
Red Hood actually has the entire DeKnight family under his thumb in a carefully crafted hostage ploy, posing as her devoted bodyguard, and Sabina's post was her cryptic version of the Bat signal for help.
Flitter's polls flip back and forth between naming either of the vigilantes as a winner in a one-on-one fight. Batman's advantage is that he is Batman; Red Hood's is that he isn't.
"All in all," Troy concludes while scrolling through ten-thousand comments, "you, my dear, are the talk of the town — or country, I should say. But hey, for the most part, their sentiment is positive!"
Though she doesn't reply again, he has a feeling her thoughts are mixed.
He can't blame her. He still remembers the last time Sabina's social media caused an internet storm.
It began with questioning glances from across the room, tossed over by C-list acquaintances and low-bill names that made it less worrisome for Troy to think much of it. Well, the fuzziness of the alcohol probably didn't help either, but it wasn't until his phone buzzed once, twice, a third time in his sweaty hand that he felt something was off. The pounding bass in his limbs and bouts of laughter in his ears made it difficult to understand what exactly Kat was yelling in all caps for…
"Troy!"
He glances up from the screen and blinks a couple times, then Sabina's flushed and beaming face comes into view. She's had at least two shots more than he did and it shows in her sparkling eyes and teetering figure. "You will not believe who just made a move on me!"
She giggles before taking an uncoordinated sip from the glass in her hand, clearly prepared to spill the details — and maybe the drink, too. "Do you remember the girl who played the assassin in the movie we watched last week… What am I looking at?"
The light from his phone screen that he pushed in Sabina's face illuminates the slow morph from an impish grin to a dumbfounded stare.
A few feet away, partygoers are glancing over at the pair, their phones in hand. Troy wishes he could hear what they're muttering to each other over the pop music. He also wants to tell them to fuck off and stop staring, but his mouth won't move. Maybe it's the panic paralyzing him as it sinks in.
The lingering stares are all he feels after he grabs her hand, not caring that her drink has splashed over the two of them, and pulls his friend to the front door.
Kat: SOS!
Call me back ASAP please
DID YOU POST THOSE?
"So you're a fan of Batman."
She eyes him with dirtiness that makes Jason feel like he just asked what two plus two was. "Who said that?"
"Your post from last night," Jason answers after a short moment and a quick prayer.
Sabina turns away from him and shakes her head. "It's just an emoji. There's no hidden meaning."
"Really?" he says, totally not buying her answer. "Out of all the ones you could pick, you chose a bat?"
"Is it a problem?"
There she goes again, staring him down in contrast to the way she hardly made eye contact with him from the penthouse all the way to the DeKnights' office building.
They're standing in the pristine waiting area, drowning in floral air freshener, as Troy chats with Ariel's secretary. A family company meeting is supposed to be taking place this afternoon, but Ariel had a phone call run late, so Jason's just taking the opportunity to count how many times employees steal a glance at him when they think he's not looking. The secretary's at four, the building security near the door is at six, and the young man who may or may not be some kind of intern has passed through for the printer behind the secretary two times now. Jason could swear he didn't even grab the printed documents the first time.
He has to force himself to pause for a second not only because he's actively working to keep from snapping at Sabina's question but also because… he doesn't know how to answer. Is it a problem for him? No, definitely not. Jason couldn't care less what she does on her social media.
Might it raise some eyebrows elsewhere? Sure, most likely. But that's not his business unless it needs to be. And over-analyzing people's social media posts and decoding captions isn't his thing, so he can drop the subject when it seems like Sabina is eager to.
Really, Jason just thought the bat emoji thing was kinda funny.
"Not at all," is what he decides to say, earning a satisfied expression from the heiress before she goes back to texting away.
Except there's a small, small part of him that wonders what she does think about Batman. If she actually answered his question, Jason might better understand where she stands when it comes to caped crusaders and vigilantes… But then again, the endless supply of flat stares and snappy remarks are enough to tell him that she might not be anyone's biggest fan.
And unless it's something specific to Red Hood, Jason figures he can safely assume that she simply doesn't care for people that do what he does. There isn't exactly anything that screams "I support vigilantism" about her besides maybe the bat emoji post — even that is a stretch. For all he knows, she could be mocking Gotham's obsession with the dark knight.
"Don't tell me you wish I posted 'Hashtag-Red Hood' instead."
Red Hood snorts. "Even if I did, you're not allowed to."
"Well, if given the choice, I still would have gone with the bat emoji."
She's not looking at him when the secretary waves them over, indicating that Ariel is ready. Jason moves to follow after her and Troy, a step behind the heiress's shoulder but close enough to hear her next words.
"Aside from the fact that there is no emoji that makes sense for you, it's not like people know who you are anyway."
Ouch.
A small part of him is glad she can't see his face … It would only grant her the satisfaction of knowing the comment landed the way she wanted.
And oh, does he hate that.
"Sounds like you're just pissed you have to share the spotlight with me."
Just as Sabina turns to him, Ariel and Carmen are welcoming the group, having stepped outside the large conference room where several other people are seated and waiting. Through the soundproof wall of glass, their intrigued gazes make Jason's nerves flare a little bit. Carmen greets both her daughter and Troy with air kisses and then a wave at Red Hood. He returns the gesture with a nod and then another one at Ariel, seeing that Miller is posted behind him at the wall. Jason gives him a tiny salute that goes unreciprocated, but whatever, such is the life of a vigilante-by-night-bodyguard-by-day.
He expects Sabina to follow after everyone into the conference room now that her chance to respond to him was interrupted, but no, she's pausing to give him a peculiar look.
"Are you?" Her voice is weirdly soft as if she doesn't want anyone else to hear. No one has realized just yet that she hasn't entered the room with her parents and Troy.
His brows crease beneath the helmet. "Am I what?"
Her eyes rest on his chest for the briefest second. "A fan of Batman?"
A strange, prickly feeling over his skin tells him that someone is watching their interaction. Or did her question make him feel a certain way?
"Something like that."
"I'm sure Mr. DeKnight has already mentioned this to you, but I would be extra cautious when it comes to Miss DeKnight's social life and activities."
Red Hood and the Darkwater operative assigned as Ariel DeKnight's primary bodyguard stand about eight feet apart, both at the wall outside the conference room. It's been about fifteen minutes since the meeting started, and though not a single word can be heard from within the glass, Jason's pretty decent at lip-reading. And he's thankful for it, considering this bodyguard thing can be slow and uneventful and he has been forced to come up with ways to stay awake.
This foundation meeting isn't much better; talk about donors and community outreach is just as boring as not being able to know what they were discussing at all.
"What are you telling me, that she's secretly a daredevil?"
At most, Sabina has a healthy lifestyle balanced with exercise, nothing crazy that Jason read, like climbing Everest or running marathons. So does he mean hard drugs and alcohol, which are the complete opposite of what her diet appears to be?
Again, not his business.
Miller doesn't appear to be entertained by the comment. His gaze remains on the mural across from them. "She can be… slippery."
Jason says nothing, trying to decipher the stoic expression and his unhelpful — and not to mention unsolicited — advice.
Whatever that means.
The two of them go without another word for the remainder of the hour, Miller's words lasting for much less before Jason decides it's not worth his time. If the guy wants to tell him one more time how to do his job, he might have to remind him why doing so is unwise.
The same intern is at the front desk again when Red Hood trails after Sabina to the restroom. Both he and the secretary jump apart like two high schoolers caught copying each other's homework, the guilt apparent on their faces. Jason catches a glimpse of the woman's phone between them before she rushes to lock it.
"Look, I'm not gonna throw a fit over you being so enamored by my presence, but I will have to ask that you don't do it every time I'm here, considering this won't be the last time you see me."
The young man's skin goes pink instantly while the secretary tears her eyes away and puts her phone face down on the desk. At his side, Sabina is giving him a questioning look that he ignores, waving his hand in the direction of the restrooms down the hall. She glances over at the other two who are suddenly busying themselves with random items in the area, then keeps walking with a tiny shake of her head.
"You just gonna keep looking at me like that or you gonna say what's on your mind?"
His tone implies, Since you always do. She definitely hasn't missed the obvious fact that he doesn't like how she talks to him… Sabina knows very well that he really doesn't like it.
She wouldn't have been surprised to see their embarrassed faces daring to peer down the hall at them when she looks back, but all she sees is an empty foyer. Passing a nonchalant gaze over the artwork on the walls as she and the outlaw continue on their way, Sabina doesn't look at him and answers,
"I just wasn't expecting you to be so… forward."
"Your dad must have left out the part where it's my thing to be 'forward.'"
"My former bodyguard, Bo—"
Suddenly, Red Hood steps in front of her, blocking her way with his larger figure. "Your former bodyguard and all those boneheads at Darkwater are ex-military professionals… I'm not. But if ya miss 'Bo' so much and the way he did things, feel free to take that up with the guy who's paying me not to do things the usual way."
Irritation crawls under Sabina's skin as she makes a casual effort to scan their surroundings. No one is around, most of her father's associates having stuck around to conduct casual conversations and other employees doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Yet she doesn't like having this conversation with Red Hood right here regardless.
"I'll adjust," she replies and looks up at him pointedly, "as long as you don't kill anyone who gets in the way."
The ladies' room is another door down. Without another word, she heads for it, assuming the vigilante would get the idea and either make himself useful by keeping quiet or standing post outside like he should. Or both.
But he does neither. A gloved hand pulls the door shut as soon as Sabina pushes it open, and his robotic voice is at her ear — too close for comfort.
"You've got five seconds to tell me who shoved a silver spoon so far up your ass that I can see it in the back of your throat."
Blinking rapidly, Sabina looks over at the mask bent down towards her, making her heart skip. Faint scratches and scuffs are all over the hard material like combat scars.
"… Excuse me?"
He tilts his head. "Four, three…"
A reflexive glance over her shoulder tells her that no one is still around. Someone exits from a door about thirty feet away, but the woman doesn't see them, walking in the other direction.
Sabina straightens and looks Red Hood up and down, a response coming to her almost instantly. "Why are you looking into my mouth anyway? Thinking about what you can't have?"
Red Hood makes a sound that's like a scoff or short laugh. "Oh, God, don't flatter yourself. The only reason I'd put anything in your mouth would be to get you to shut the hell up."
He doesn't give Sabina a chance to reply, pointing at her with his other gloved hand.
"I can see that shiny little spoon because you open your mouth all the time, you seem to have so goddamn much to say."
"Then my father must have left that part out when he hired you," Sabina quips, not bothering to hide the mocking sneer in her tone.
She nods her head at the restroom door and adds,
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a spoon to remove from my ass. Unless you'd like to do it for me?"
There's something oddly discomforting about the way that red mask stares blankly at her for a few long seconds… and then the outlaw steps to the side, granting her access to the door. Tearing her gaze from the white slits, Sabina steps past him and fights the urge to glance at him one more time.
He didn't exactly plan for this to happen, but he couldn't help it after clearing the penthouse later on and Sabina "dismissed" him for the day. There was just something about the way she never looked in his direction — and that on top of the unnerving audacity that she had earlier today?
Jason watches as Sabina starts heading towards her kitchen. "You can see yourself out, you know."
"As long as you don't kill anyone who gets in the way."
"We didn't finish our earlier conversation."
Sabina stops and looks over, bewilderment mixed with annoyance creasing her brows. "What?"
Almost disgusted, like she hates that he's speaking to her. Heat rises in his chest.
"The silver spoon at the back of your throat?" The realization registers in her eyes as he adds, "That conversation."
"I think we did."
Hood crosses his arms and prompts, "Then remind me: what exactly is your problem with me?"
"I don't have a problem with you," Sabina answers far too quickly for Jason to think for a second it could be true.
He laughs and can tell that it bothers her by the way her jaw clenches. "Yeah, you do, princess. Ever since you got off that fancy little jet, you've done nothing but roll your eyes, make smart-ass comments, and act like I broke your favorite Barbie doll or somethin'."
Sabina still doesn't answer, now meeting his gaze in stony silence, and Red Hood shakes his head.
"I'm not enjoying this—" he gestures between himself and her, "—any more than you are, alright? So let's make it as painless as possible and try not to talk unless we absolutely have to. It'll make things easier for the both of us."
Not exactly painless but easier nonetheless.
"Or I could just ask for you to be replaced."
Shrugging, Red Hood answers, "You could, but something tells me your opinion doesn't really matter when it comes to picking bodyguards."
He revels silently at the look on her face.
"A contract is a contract, and that means you're stuck with me for a little while unless one of us dies or gets abducted by aliens."
"Well, aliens sound much nicer than dealing with you," Sabina mutters, moving to walk away.
Likewise. He's learned quickly that she has no shortage of witty, sarcastic, irritating replies, so he vaguely wonders in what way he can have the last word. For once.
Christ, she's so fucking mouthy.
Pausing, the outlaw turns on his heel because, yeah, he's just got one last thing to say and he's done with her bullshit.
"And by the way — quit acting like you know a fuckin' thing about who I'll kill and who I won't."
She stops in her tracks to glance back at him. The glint in her eye is a lightning-quick, telltale sign that Sabina is going to come up with some aggravating response because why wouldn't she?
Raising her chin in some sort of childlike defiance, she challenges, "Or what?"
Without hesitation, Red Hood closes the distance between them in three strides, towering over her five-foot-eight figure. He can tell she almost stepped back as a result, which only inflates his ego as he tells her,
"Or you'll wish you didn't do whatever the hell made your father call me in the first place."
He doesn't allow himself the satisfaction of seeing how she reacts; turning back around, Jason shuts the door, too hard, and pushes impatiently at the elevator buttons. Part of him expects her to go after him, hell bent on throwing another insult his way, but the penthouse door remains closed. Seconds later, all he sees is his own reflection in the elevator doors.
It's almost disappointing.
Jason Todd managed to do things on his own and be alone, and so did Red Hood. A "lone wolf," Roy called him once. But for this job in particular, neither one wanted to do this solo.
The penthouse door opens to reveal Sabina's flat expression, which tells Jason that she looked at the security feed nearby and knew who had rung the bell. Maybe she stayed up all night stressing over what she needed to hear.
He's about to point that out when the heiress says, "You're early for once."
"For good reason." Red Hood steps to the side to reveal Arsenal, who gives a tiny salute. "After our conversations yesterday, I thought I'd introduce you to someone."
"Hey. I'm Arsenal," his partner chimes in with a little too much cheerfulness for Jason's taste.
Sabina seems to ponder his introduction for a second, green eyes running over him, before shaking his extended hand. "Sabina."
"I know," the redhead says before correcting himself, "I mean—it's nice to finally meet you."
Beside him, Jason is rolling his eyes even if no one can see it. That's when he notices that Troy is on the couch in the living room far behind Sabina, doing a shit job of trying to listen in and not be obvious about it. His gaze keeps darting from the phone he's hunched over and the three of them at the door.
"So…" Sabina straightens up and gestures at them. "Am I to expect that you'll be accompanying him from now on?"
"Him?" Arsenal jerks a thumb at Red Hood and laughs. "Oh, I don't know, probably not every day, although I wouldn't mind—"
"Arsenal will be tagging along at my discretion." Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Red Hood continues, "Because your father said I could. That gonna be a problem?"
The two of them look at her, though all Sabina does is smile and shake her head.
"Of course not. Why stop at one vigilante following me around?"
"I'm, uh, sensing a little sarcasm there," Roy points out, much to Jason's dismay. The comment earns the redhead a light shove that goes unnoticed by the heiress, who's retreating into the penthouse to grab her things.
Not that he would tell her outright (or that he even owed her an explanation), but yes, Red Hood brought Arsenal along mostly because he can't stand her anymore after their recent "altercations." His thinly-veiled threat with the dramatic exit last night only happened after the last straw that was her asinine remark about Red Hood's choices. Who the hell was she to say something like that?
So yeah, Jason called in the cavalry, ignoring his better judgment that he could just stick this out. Even if it's just for a day or two here and there, he needs Roy for the company… and to prove that he's never exaggerating when he rants about how the woman drives him up the fucking wall.
"So you're an archer…" Sabina begins just as Jason opens the door to the SUV, earning a firm nod from Arsenal, "and you … are some rendition of a Batman fanboy."
Behind the helmet, Jason's mouth drops open. Arsenal stifles a weird choking sound and Troy is in the corner of his eye, dark eyes widened in half horror and half laughter. Sabina… well, she just stands there like she didn't just say what she did.
Yeah, he's in hell.
"Is that why you were acting weird about my Insta post?"
"Oh, I saw that!" Arsenal chimes in. "I thought that bat emoji was clever… 'cause, you know, Bat—"
"You think I'm a what?" Red Hood interrupts, finally past his momentary stupor. His heart races at the fact that she sees him in such an insulting way. How on earth did she come to that conclusion…?
"What is that?" she asks, pointing to his chest.
Jason crosses his arms, willing himself to maintain a cool. "You wouldn't understand. It's way more complicated than you think."
Sabina raises a plucked brow. "Try me."
He shouldn't, but he does.
"It's not exactly just Batman's symbol—"
"But it is a bat."
"… Yeah, but—"
"So you're copying Batman," she deadpans.
"No, I—No, the fuck I'm not." Copying Bruce? As if. Clearly she doesn't know a damn thing about—
"How are you not imitating Batman if you're wearing his symbol?"
He throws up his hands exasperatedly. "For the love of God, I am not imitating Batman. We don't even look alike. We don't operate in the same ways."
"You like Batman and wear his symbol, but you're not imitating him…?"
"I'm not—When did I say I like him?"
"I asked yesterday if you are a fan, and you said 'Something like that.'"
"That doesn't mean 'Yes, I like him,'" Jason tells her slowly, then shakes his head. "You know what? It doesn't matter whether I do or don't."
Arsenal and Troy remain nearby, awkwardly in the middle of this "conversation," and Sabina just rolls her eyes. "This doesn't make sense."
"It does. Other vigilantes wear variations of this symbol, but they're not imitating him and neither am I."
"Why do they wear it?"
"I don't know how else to explain to you," Hood tries with strained patience. Why is he even trying to spell this out for her anyway? "It's because they—we support him. Consider it like a sign of solidarity. We help him protect Gotham."
And I've earned this damn symbol.
"Okay… then you're a sidekick."
"I'm getting in the car," Troy inserts hurriedly while Arsenal offers, "Yeah, we should probably get going!"
"Don't want you to be late," the other outlaw adds while gently ushering Sabina in the direction of the door after her friend.
Sidekick.
Glancing down at his hands and moving away from him, Sabina grumbles, "Well, at least one of you has a sense of urgency." She might be completely oblivious to the fact that Red Hood hasn't said anything…
Sidekick.
But that's because, as he watches her get into the backseat, Jason is fumbling for something to say, anything to counter this blasphemy of an insinuation. It's too late though; the heiress has shut the door and Arsenal is letting out a low whistle beside him while scratching his head.
Jason's body feels strangely hot and flushed from… embarrassment? Irritation? Some gross combination of both?
"Don't you fuckin' dare, Roy—"
"Ya know, loosely speaking, she isn't all that wrong."
"Strictly speaking, I will shoot you. I will put aside the relief I felt when you came back this morning and put a bullet in your foot right now."
"I'd advise against that. I think she likes me, and if you kill me, she'll hate you."
"She already despises me, so even if it were true that she likes you — which she doesn't — it wouldn't make a difference."
"Well, maybe we can ask her—"
"I wasn't bluffing when I said I'd shoot you."
NightSkyBlueGhost, oh, I love the princess nickname too! it's certainly not going anyway anytime soon as we just saw lol. And gosh, that spidey sense of yours... ;) i love it, i really do. There's definitely a lot to look forward to!