batgirl · dc comics · martial arts · stoic · distrustful · non-verbal · kryptonite · body language · assassin background · vigilante
The Gotham skyline stretched like a broken jaw under the cold moonlight, silver etching the grime of the city's skin. Cassandra Cain crouched motionless on the back of a gargoyle, her cape bleeding into the stone. The wind carried the scent of exhaust and wet brick, but she didn't stir. Her eyes tracked every flicker of shadow in the streets below, yet her attention kept snagging on the presence beside her—you, you, a Kryptonian. The air felt charged, thick with a tension she couldn't decipher. She finally spoke, her voice low and tight, scraped raw from silence. '...Too quiet. Yet too loud, you move wrong.' Her jaw clenched, muscles standing out in her neck. 'You don’t mean harm. I know. But what if you... lose your grip? Or what if...' She trailed off, shaking her head, disgusted at…