GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT
2008
MIDNIGHT
"You're late."
There was a very short list of people that could meet the full force of The Dark Knight's disapproving glare without flinching. And Hawkwoman was definitely one of them. "We were waylaid stopping an arsonist from torching a national park."
Batman held her gaze for a moment before wisely dropping the subject, instead turning to introduce the man standing next to him. "I believe you've met Commissioner Gordon before."
Sticking out a hand in greeting, the older man taking the antics of the two vigilantes in stride. "Hawkwoman, it's nice to see you again. Thanks for flying out to help. I know you already have your hands full with St. Roch."
"Same to you, Gordon," The Thanagarian woman answered sincerely. "And this is Hawkgirl." Inclining her head, she wordlessly urged her daughter forward to make pleasantries.
Up until now, the teen had been stiffly loitering in the doorway of the office, a pronounced smudge of soot smeared across one cheek and face set into a neutral scowl.
"It seems like every time I blink, one of you heroes gets a sidekick." Gordon quipped, offering a polite head nod in the young girl's direction. "Personally, I blame Batman for starting the trend, eh Robin?"
Said boy in question snorted from where he was sitting on top of a chair. Not on top as placed in the chair in a normal fashion, rather he was carefully perched on the sturdy back like the little bird he was.
"So, Batman told me you were our best shot at identifying the dagger our culprit's been using." Commissioner Gordon slipped easily back into work mode, fishing a manila folder out from the drawer of his desk and handing it over.
"From what he's mentioned, most likely," Opening the folder, Hawkwoman's sharp eyes scanned over the report. Already she was engrossed in the provided photographs of the wounds left behind, as well as the descriptions from the few victims who had survived their encounters. "Hm, none of these murders are showing any of the usual signs of a ritualistic killing, they're just standard knife wounds. Sloppy ones, at that. Opportunistic?"
Batman offered a terse nod, "I haven't discovered a clear pattern between victims."
As Shayera drew her colleague into a discussion about the murderer's behaviors, Gordon found his attention diverted to the two youngest in the room. Hawkgirl was shifting from side to side, looking very out of place. He cleared his throat, "Hey kids, why don't you two hang out in Peterson's office while we handle the boring adult stuff? He's got a bunch of games and cards in his cabinet, I'm sure you can find something entertaining in there."
Robin opened his mouth, no doubt intent on protesting the 'adult stuff' comment, only to be silenced by a subtle shake of his mentor's head. Huffing in displeasure, he back flipped off his perch and shot a wide grin Hawkgirl's way before ducking out of the room.
Ski'Lira was frozen in place, unsure what to do. Gordon had suggested she leave, but she was supposed to be helping her mother with the investigation. Okay, technically the only reason she was here because her mother didn't have time to escort her home, and she wasn't allowed to patrol solo yet. The moment they were done here, they were headed back to St. Roch to continue their night work.
It took Shayera reaching over and physically shoving her halfway out the door to get her to leave, her mother not even looking up from the folder in her hands. Scowling, Ski'Lira was given no choice but to follow Robin. He at least seemed to know exactly where he was going.
The empty office, Peterson's as they'd been told, was only a few doors down, abandoned for at least two or three days judging by the stale air quality. Or maybe not, it was difficult to tell with the heavy odor that seemed to linger over all of Gotham, a strange mix of petrichor from the near-constant grey skies and the sharp bite from the chemical plants and steel mill.
After her cursory examination of the room, Ski'Lira sat carefully on the edge of the old wooden desk, angling herself in such a way that meant she didn't have to pull her wings in awkwardly. Robin opted to keep poking around the office, opening drawers, picking up knickknacks, and examining photos without a care to their owner.
"So, arson, huh? How'd that go?" Robin asked, completely out of the blue. "You've uh, got something on your face, by the way. Right here." He tapped his cheek for emphasis.
She made no move to scrub her face, as she well knew about the soot marring her skin, having caught a glimpse of herself on a mirror on the way in. From experience, she knew that without proper soap and water the most she'd do was spread it and smear it further. She strongly considered ignoring Robin's question entirely, until she remembered Roy offhandedly mentioning that the younger boy was an incorrigible chatterbox.
Answering was a matter of self-preservation, "It was a successful operation. No casualties, minimal amount of environmental damage, two minor cases of smoke inhalation treated on sight by paramedics, one hospitalization for a severely broken arm."
"Wait, how did that last one happen? Someone trip and fall?"
"No. He was the arsonist."
Robin paused, head cocked partially to the side as he let out a low whistle. "Wow, you Hawks really don't mess around."
Her silence spoke volumes.
"... This is weird, right?" A drawer was shut with a muted clang, "Us meeting like this? And weirdly late? You've been on Earth for years, right?"
In truthy, there was a hearty list of reasons why she and Robin had been purposefully kept apart. No doubt this meeting was pure coincidence, something her mother would gain flak for later. Were it not for Gordon's unknowing attempt to 'let the kids have some fun', they would not have been left alone together.
Long story short, more than one member of the League had aired concerns about bringing the two birds together. It wasn't anything nefarious or harmful, more... they had sincere reservations about allowing two mortal agents of chaos meet.
In addition, she'd only recently finished the process Hal Jordan had lovingly coined 'Thanagarian Brand, Angry Puberty'. Despite their pre-existing friendship, not even Roy had been allowed around her for a while, as there was a very real possibility she could severely hurt him unintentionally.
There had been a very long discussion about the potential of shipping her back to Thanagar until the growing phase passed, but it was Dinah who had shot it down. The woman had gone into full lecture mode, how damaging it could be to remove her from the place they were trying to get her to settle into during such a fragile time in development. Eventually, they'd come out on the other side relatively unscathed, with Ski'Lira boasting her first full set of matured feathers and Oliver Queen marginally more traumatized.
She and Roy had celebrated their reunion by staying up all night playing video games and eating enough junk food that Roy threw up. It was a fantastic day.
Of course, she didn't voice any of that, offering Robin a simple shrug.
"Right..." He said slowly. "Should have expected that." With the long-suffering sigh of a human having their first interaction with a Thanagarian, he crouched down and yanked open the doors of a small cabinet. "Hey, you bored yet? Because I am."
"I have been trained to ignore such feelings."
"So have I." Robin pointed out. "And yet..."
"… Yes. I am bored."
With a triumphant grin, he hoisted up his prize, a stack of well-used board games, setting them on the nearly empty desk with a hearty thump. "Pick one."
H
"Your insight has been invaluable, Hawkwoman, far more than I possibly could have hoped for. With any luck, we'll have Deforest in police custody and the dagger on its way back to the Cairo Museum by tomorrow night. I'm sure our common friend here will provide updates as they come." Gordon shook the woman's hand with sincere fervor, relieved at the solid leads she had provided.
"He should be fairly easy to catch," Hawkwoman assured. "He certainly was the last time my husband and I went after him, though then he was just a petty thief, not a rampant serial killer. If you need more help, I'm only a call away. For now, my daughter and I should be heading home."
"I hope the kids weren't too bored," Gordon's smile turned warmer as he personally opened the door of Peterson's office. He promptly froze.
The side of Batman's mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "Somehow I doubt that."
When they had searched through the games provided, the two teens had hoped for something a little more... intellectually challenging. Instead they got Candyland, Chutes and Ladders, Monopoly (which wasn't any fun with two players), Scrabble, and two incomplete decks of cards. So they did the most logical thing, and used all of the various games' pieces and cardboard placards to create their own chess board.
The two were engrossed over their amalgamated game of chess, the remains of the discarded bits from the games they'd scavenged their prizes from strewn haphazardly across the floor around them. It was unclear who was winning, as the adults had no way of knowing what piece had been designated as what.
Commissioner Jim Gordon, a hardened detective of the Gotham Police Department, a man who went toe to toe with some of the worst villains the world had to offer without flinching, promptly burst out laughing.
H
"So, I guess this is goodbye for now." Robin's grin had yet to fade. While they had cleaned up their mess, their mentors had gone to wait on the roof. After their daunting task was done, everything meticulously re-sorted, they'd ascended to the top of the precinct.
Hawkgirl nodded, "It is. This meeting was long coming and... it did not disappoint. I had fun, thank you."
"Hey, no problem. You're pretty cool, Hawkgirl. Maybe next time we'll get to do a real team-up instead of hanging out in an office and playing a very colorful game of chess."
A vicious smirk that only boded ill will for any potential criminals in the future appeared on her face. "That would be preferable, yes."
To her confusion, he held out a hand, his fingers curled back with only his pinky sticking out.
She just stared helplessly, not recognizing the gesture.
"You're supposed to take it," Robin prompted, stretching his hand out a little further towards her.
Confused, she reached out and gently pinched his pinky with her thumb and index finger. Robin let loose a demonic cackle purely at her expense, twisting her hand himself until their pinkies were linked.
"It's called a pinky swear. It's a powerful binding promise." Robin explained. "I promise next time we meet up, we'll kick some serious butt."
Ski'Lira found herself returning his earnest smile. "That sounds like an excellent promise."
H
ST. ROCH, LOUISIANA
2010
16:00, CST
In the depths of the Stonechat Museum of Art and History, Skylar Hall was hard at work, despite how desperately she wished she wasn't. The most tedious job, inventory, had been slated onto her docket when she'd made the mistake of mentioning she'd finished all her schoolwork for the week. Thus, she was caught in an endless loop of checking labels on crates and boxes, and matching said labels against the master list currently displayed on the tablet in her hands.
Monotonous it may be, she'd rather be down here than dealing with the fat cat patrons upstairs.
Today the museum had been closed to the public, entirely for the purpose of ironing out the details of an incredibly lucrative deal. If everything went to plan, the museum would end up permanently procuring a few new paintings and sculptures for display. Her father had loudly declared the seller could be a bit of a hard ass, and he'd probably end up coercing a few personal favors out of them in addition to monetary compensation.
Ski'Lira didn't know much about this 'Bruce Wayne' guy, but she didn't see how they could possibly lose the deal now. Her parents' particularly aggressive approach to art dealing was difficult to combat, especially with tycoons that had no real appreciation for (or right to possess) the items in their personal collections past bragging rights.
Checking the next label, she was dismayed at the illegibility of the handwriting, no doubt the work of one of the more recently hired interns. It took a solid few minutes to decipher the scrawl. In the interest of preserving the sanity of whomever did inventory next (which was likely to be herself), she made a quick detour to snag a new label and rewrite it in very clear lettering. She also left a scathing post-it note reminder on the shelf about clarity in clerical work.
Just as she'd replaced her trusty pen back into its holding place in her hair bun, a buzz came from her pocket. Fishing her phone out with her free hand, she quickly read the short text from her mother displayed on the lock screen.
Come upstairs ASAP
Sensing a thorough disruption to the routine she'd fallen into, she placed the tablet down on the nearest clear shelf for a moment. As she was walking out of a 'safety zone' in the museum, she grabbed her baggy green khaki jacket and slung it on, wiggling her wings into the confines. Aviators slipped out of the pocket and back onto the bridge of her nose, her human disguise was intact, leaving her with no excuse to linger.
Grabbing the work tablet and tucking it under her arm, she resigned herself to whatever awaited her upstairs.
Five minutes later, she turned a corner in the main hall of the museum, the stomp and squeak of her well-worn boots announcing her arrival. Her parents were still in the midst of their very important business meeting, the thought of which only made Ski'Lira feel dread.
The small group ahead cut a very strange contrast. As her parents favored loose khaki shirts, jeans, and bulky jackets, especially on workdays, their investor looked twice as out of place. This had to be Bruce Wayne, with his slicked back hair and immaculately tailored black suit with nary a speck even to her sharp eyes. A glint of light reflected from his wrist, drawing attention to a set of cufflinks and a watch that were likely more expensive individually than her parents' car.
But Bruce Wayne was not alone. No, standing next to him with eyes glued to his sleek (and pricey) phone was a black-haired boy in a school uniform. When she spotted the embroidered 'Gotham Academy' logo on the lapel, she had to resist an instinctive snort of amusement, remembering her own disastrous escapade at the school.
"There you are," Carter called out to her, a grin on his face that definitely meant he was up to something. "Did you get lost?"
Rolling her eyes at the tease, she pointedly held the tablet aloft. "Did you forget who you shirked inventory duty onto? I was busy."
"And now you're not." He corrected, turning to the client. "Mr. Wayne, this is my daughter Skylar."
Thoroughly disinterested in forcing politeness, but also unwilling to ruin an important deal, Skylar reluctantly held out her hand. "My parents showed me the photos of your collection, Mr. Wayne. It's fairly impressive."
"Thank you for the compliment, Miss Hall." There was an indecipherable look in his eyes as he took her hand. She was almost taken aback by how strong his grip was and how calloused his hands were. "As you have yet to be introduced, this is my ward, Dick."
It took real physical effort to stop herself from blurting out her first thought, 'What an unfortunate name for a human'. Instead, she clenched her teeth to keep herself from saying something regretful.
At the sound of his name, the younger boy finally turned off his phone and put it away, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The slight movements stirred the air around him, and she was hit with a strong cloud of incredibly strong cologne. The scent completely clogged her senses, eyes watering ever so slightly (which was thankfully obscured by the dark lenses of her aviators). She was sure to be struck nose blind for at least the next fifteen minutes thanks to this boy's overindulgence on artificial fragrances.
Reminded that her parents had probably summoned her for a reason other than shaking the hand of a man who probably spent more on hair gel than their parents did on the electricity bill at home, she faced her mother.
"Was there something you needed?"
"I just thought it would be considerate of you to show Dick around the museum, give him a personal tour." Based on tone, this was not a suggestion on Shayera's part, more of a direct order.
Ski'Lira found herself floundering for any possible excuse to get out of this. "I... haven't finished inventory. And I found one label that needed to be rewritten, so there'll probably be more."
"You can do that later."
Knowing a lost cause when she saw it, she blew out a long breath. Pivoting on her heel, she started to walk away with decisive steps. She went about five feet before she angled her head back to shoot a scowl at Dick. "Are you coming or not?"
Mr. Wayne clapped his ward meaningfully on the shoulder, nudging him onwards, reluctance dogging the younger boy's steps just as much as they did hers.
Just like that, Skylar found herself acting as tour guide for some out of town rich brat.
Great.
H
"The museum's roughly divided in half, with art in the right wing and history on the left. Do you have any preferences?"
"Could you ask again with more enthusiasm?" He teased, any semblance of negativity from being forced to follow her gone from him, replaced instead with a distinctly obnoxious energy. "One would think you've never given a proper tour before!"
She narrowed her eyes, jerking her thumb towards a display replica of a fifteenth century Ming vase. "Do you want me to stuff you in that and leave you there while I go back to work?"
"Let's start with history!" He squeaked, some of the wind leaving his sails at her aggression, but that was sure to return soon.
Wordlessly, she led him towards the left wing, bringing them into the prehistoric section of the museum. It wasn't a large area, as it wasn't exactly the Stonechat's specialty, but it was popular with younger patrons. The crown jewel (at least, in her opinion) of the display was the massive Mosasaurus skeleton, carefully assembled and stretched out to its full thirty foot span. As it dominated the center of the room, it was carefully cordoned off by a low, thick plexiglass wall.
She was more than willing to let Dick mill around as he pleased, letting him read the placards and inspect the display cases fully on his own. Wishful thinking, to hope he'd stop talking to her.
"So, you work at the museum, huh?" She blinked, taken aback by the more personal nature of the museum. In her moment of distraction, he wandered back from where he was examining the fossilized ammonite collection and now he stood next to her in front of the Mosasaurus.
Ski'Lira looked from him to the red lanyard looped around her neck bearing her badge. "Yes. Obviously."
"You don't seem old enough to be an employee." He pointed out.
"My parents are the curators." She explained, tapping the 'intern' under her name for emphasis. "My employment status is trivial. It's an honor to help them here."
Not catching onto the aura of disinterest she was emanating in a silent effort to drive him back to his father, he kept talking. "It must be pretty cool to work in a place like this. I bet you get to see all the cool stuff they don't put on display. Does it have a name?"
His question threw her off, and for the first time since they'd entered this part of the museum, she looked him in the eyes. "To what are you referring exactly?"
Jerking a thumb at the Mosasaurus, he grinned toothily. "Her. Him. Them? It? If it doesn't, you should give it one. And if you don't, I definitely will. It looks a lot like a... hm."
"... His name is Angus." She interrupted his pondering with the truth.
"Really?"
Skylar immediately went on the defensive, her wings shifting in their hiding place. "I'm not the one who named him." She snapped back. "The staff made a poll in the break room."
That only seemed to intrigue him further. "Kind of sounds like you lost the poll, huh? What did you vote for?"
"That's for me to know and for you to never find out." Determined to usher him onward, she stepped away from Angus, or as she still preferred despite the crushing defeat, 'Prince Malfeasance IV'. The faster they reached the end of the tour, the quicker she could rid herself of him.
Speeding through this part of the museum, she led him towards the stairs, where the really interesting artifacts were.
H
"Is there a reason why you're standing so far away?"
Skylar frowned, as Dick had interrupted her mid-lecture while they were in the midst of the Ancient Egypt exhibit (her parents' personal favorite). Attempting to be at least a semi-helpful tour guide (lest he complain to his father, who in turn might complain to her parents), she'd offered an entirely unprompted insight into how they'd transferred all the stone sarcophagi to the second floor.
Or, at least, the fake explanation they provided to everyone who asked. When you have three Thanagarians around, the youngest of whom can deadlift half a ton, it was far easier to just (carefully) pick everything up and move it yourself without having to resort to ramps and dollies.
She supposed that the distance she'd implemented was unusual, ten feet between them in an entirely empty room. In her defense, his cologne was really bothering her now, as every second she inhaled the odorous perfume, her olfactory senses stung. Mentally weighing the pros and cons of potentially bringing great insult to someone who had a chance of ruining a lucrative business partnership only partially distracted her from the steadily growing burning.
In the end, irritation won out.
Her parents had said she had to take the boy on a tour, not that she had to be pleasant about it.
"Your cologne is offensive to my senses."
Whatever response he had expected, that likely wasn't it judging by the widening of his eyes. Pulling his collar away from his neck, he gave himself a discreet sniff, wincing a little. "Sorry about that. I think I've just gotten used to it by now. Bruce insisted on it this morning, something about 'keeping up appearances'."
There was something slightly off about the excuse, but she didn't care enough to question it further. Instead, she ceased smoothing her expression of distaste, allowing him to see her disgust in full force. "Smell is not an appearance, and if it were, yours would be abhorrent."
That promptly earned a burst of laughter from the younger teen.
In her mind's eye, she saw a flash red and yellow, and heard a more unhinged cackle, but she quickly shook that thought away.
"If you think I smell bad, it's five times worse at my school." Dick said, a little conspiratorial now. "Three words. Axe Body Spray."
Incredibly familiar with the near-legendary substance, Skylar didn't restrain her shudder. Roy had tried it out for a week and made the mistake of dropping by the Hall house for a visit. Shayera had literally made him take a dip in the ocean before she'd let him inside, lest he infect the household surfaces with the lingering stench.
Her reaction must have been quite amusing, as it set off a second laughing fit.
Composing himself, Dick rapidly changed subject, pointing at a nearby piece of jewelry and asking a sincere question about how they'd acquired it. Something had eased between the two of them, as Skylar found herself newly reluctant to react immediately with frustration, and in turn Dick's questions were less teases and more serious inquiries.
After she'd finished a short spiel about a particular object her parents had personally dug out of the ground while in Egypt, Dick slipped in another personal question.
"So, do you work here after school?"
"Yes and no," she admitted. "I attend online school. My schedule is free enough that I can help my parents here whenever they need it." That also included vigilante work, not that she'd say as much.
"Must be nice," there was a semi-wistful note in his voice. "I go to Gotham Academy, if you haven't noticed the jacket."
Hearing the school's name aloud, she was reminded of being flung into the rafters of the gymnasium, her hand drifting to her side with the memory of her injured ribs.
"Something tells me you've heard of it," Dick assumed, based entirely on her pause.
"I visited once," she deadpanned. "It didn't end well."
H
"I don't think I've ever seen this many weapons in one place." Dick was doing a slow circle, taking in all of the glinting, carefully maintained metal decorating the walls. "If this wasn't a museum, I'd be worried."
"Weaponry is my parents' mutual area of expertise." Skylar explained. "Stonechat has the most comprehensive collection of ancient and medieval weaponry in North America. There are a number of scholars that visit our museum just for this one exhibition."
"That's... actually pretty cool. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Your 'area of expertise'." He clarified, making quotations with his fingers.
No one... had really asked her that question before. Sure, other employees at the museum loved to pick her brain about what she'd been learning about in school, or were willing to supplement her education, but no one had asked what it was she had liked best.
Thus, she'd never thought about it herself, and she was forced to consider the question seriously. "I... suppose I don't have one yet. We can learn so much from all kinds of artifacts, jewelry, pottery, swords, murals, mosaics, and all of the different places we can find them. There is something admirable about how much we can tell about a person's life purely from what they left behind."
"That's... surprisingly insightful." The younger boy mused, hand on his chin. "Maybe you should talk to people more."
Skylar whipped towards him, fire sparking in her eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
His hands shot up in a placating gesture, "Nothing! You just... come across as a little... hostile? And you clearly have a lot to say, but not a lot of people to say it to... I am not helping my case, aren't I?"
"You are not," she agreed, teeth gritted, waiting to see how far and how quickly he could backpedal. The empty Ming vase was still downstairs, empty and waiting.
"You just... don't seem like you get out much? And considering you said you do online school..." Dick trailed off.
"And your point is?"
"Skylar... Do you have any friends?"
Those words struck an emotional blow (not that she would ever admit as such aloud), a knot forming in her stomach. She'd known this boy for half an hour and he already picked up on her social maladjustment.
Working her jaw to ease some of the tension from gritting her teeth so long, she turned away. "It's complicated. Besides, I don't see how that's any of your business."
"What's so complicated about having friends?" He argued, ignoring her attempt to deflect, taking a tentative step forward. "Usually people have them or they don't, that's the end of it. If you don't, I'm not going to hold it against you. Promise." There was an authenticity to his words, something even she couldn't deny. She had zero doubt that he was at least telling the truth about that.
"It's complicated because people are complicated." Skylar clarified, unable to explain the intricacies of her incredibly restrictive relationships with her peers, how she'd lost her one and only best friend in the span of one, explosive argument. "People should..."
Trailing off, Skylar's eyes caught on the exhibit behind Dick. "People should be more like knives. Sharp, and willing to let you throw them at other people who get on your nerves." She fervently hoped for his sake that he finally got the hint to drop the subject.
Instead, his brow's furrowed, eyes clouding over as he was lost in thought. All at once, his face loosened, as if he had just solved a particularly difficult puzzle. For a few heartbeats, he just stared at her, blue irises a few shades lighter than her own.
Then, he began to laugh.
This wasn't the laugh from before, a laugh of joviality. This was loud, and long, making him gasp for every breath even as he bent completely double.
She started to grow concerned, both for the state of his mental health at the sudden hysterics and his physical state, as he was on the verge of hyperventilation. Just as she was about to intervene (how, she was still unsure), he drew in a last shaky inhale as final giggles died down.
Regaining his composure, he used a tissue from his pocket to wipe tears out of his eyes.
"Are you... alright?" She examined him warily, looking for any negative signs from his disrupted breathing. He seemed... fine, albeit his skin was flushed red from the fit.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted, voice slightly raspy. "Just... What you said... It reminded me of something one of my friends would say."
Skylar gave a noncommittal hum.
Straightening his tie and brushing down the front of his jacket, Dick executed a flourishing bow. "Shall we continue with the tour? I've been dying to see what you have in the art wing."
H
If asked, Skylar would vehemently deny any and all admittances that she had an enjoyable hour and a half giving Dick Grayson a personal tour of the museum. She didn't think his insightful questions were actually fun to answer rather than the inane ones she had to field from the average human who visited Stonechat. She wasn't impressed when he was able to name a few of the art pieces without cheating by looking at the placard. And she was definitely opposed to another visit and wasn't considering getting him clearance to see the archives.
She somehow found herself escorting Dick all the way to the parking lot and the very shiny car waiting for him, something that hadn't been asked of her. Skylar just sort of... found herself doing it. Mr. Wayne was patiently waiting in the driver's seat, oddly looking like he was visibly fighting back a smile. Maybe the deal had gone well?
"This was fun," Dick insisted as he opened the door, sliding into the empty back seat. He closed the door behind him and rolled the window down, perching his crossed arms on the lowered top of the door "Very educational. Way more interesting than my last museum visit."
"I am pleased you enjoyed your visit to the Stonechat Museum of Art and History." The farewell was rote, something that was on the script for every employee at the establishment.
"Can you try that again with more enthusiasm?"
"Can you go die in a fire?"
That earned her a smile, a real one. "Really though, thanks. Today was certainly unforgettable. No, that's not quite the word I'm looking for... Today was asterous."
With Robin sitting back and rolling the window up, Mr. Wayne took that as permission to start the car and drive off.
She was left staring. For one minute. Then two. Finally, three entire minutes after that little black haired gremlin took off, Skylar threw her hands into the air. "That son of a-!"
She swore, the next time she visited Mount Justice, she and a certain Boy Wonder were going to have words.
And maybe she'd steal that vase and bring it along.