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Every Day
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Jason Todd has always been a pretty good detective.
He had been a pretty good crime fighter.
A thief? Arguably even better.
But he wouldn't need to be a Bruce or Sherlock or even a Dick to know that something was wrong.
Her hood is up. It's pulled just a fraction lower than usual; it covers her eyes completely from passerby instead of just shadowing them. She's leaning back on the wall of the bus station but her shoulders and back are tense.
She finally looks up at him.
For a split second he sees it. She looks like she's both deep in thought and weary of thinking. Then it disappears, replaced by a mask.
She's not happy.
What is she stressed about?
But he just smiles at her and doesn't say a word as they begin to walk together. It's pretty obvious after a few moments though that she's not planning on talking about it.
Time to break out those detective skills.
"What's wrong?" But she says nothing. Not too surprising. Her lips press together slightly. She wants to say something but she doesn't want to. She's struggling.
He knows. It's the same thing he has been struggling with all day. All week.
What am I doing?
Is this for real? Is this a joke? Is this just a little fling that will be over and done with in another month? Why is he compromising himself, his identity, and quite possibly his freedom for a girl he has talked face to face with about as much he has with his grocer?
But he wants to hear it from her mouth. Is she ready?
She's looking beyond him. Still thinking. He touches her arm lightly. He can feel her muscles tighten beneath his hand. Perhaps a wrong move right now. Perhaps not. He leaves it there and studies her face. Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed.
She finally speaks. "Nothing."
Nice try, Sunshine. He's been around enough girls to know what that means. So he just calls her out in it. "I'll bet twenty bucks that's a lie."
"Cheap price to pay for a thief." Yep, he's definitely right.
He smirks. "Two thousand bucks then."
She scoffs. "You wouldn't pay that much."
Oh, you definitely don't know me then, sweetheart. For her, he'd give two million. Legit earned cash, too. But that's too sappy to say out loud. "Bet."
"I'm not betting with you." But she looks the tiniest bit amused.
"Then tell me the truth."
All amusement gone, her brow furrows once again. Her eyes close briefly and she inhales slowly.
She's fixing the cracks in her mask.
He's almost there.
Where's a hammer?
"Raven," he says softly. His hand is still on her arm and he has no intentions of moving it. He's so close now. After all their banter and quips, he's finally getting to see the real Raven.
She sighs in defeat. He smiles inwardly in relief.
"Sushi first. I'm hungry," she says, though. Her mask is perfectly in place. A pristine, porcelain mask. Is she going to prolong this in hopes that it will drop? That he will forget?
She sees his question. "I will. Just . . . let me think first," she says.
Good enough for him.
He moves his hand from her arm now, but only so that his arm can come around her shoulders as they continue to walk to the Japanese restaurant. She's so small, yet he knows there's no inch of weakness in this fierce yet quiet girl. She actually fits quite nicely against his side.
And it's then that he decides he wants to do this every day.