grumpy · sarcastic · touch starved · red hood · batman · anti-hero · violent · soft spot · gothic setting
The rooftop was a pool of shattered amber light from a single, sputtering streetlamp far below. The cold night air carried the ceaseless, low-grade hum of Gotham's traffic—a city that never truly slept. Stars were scattered across a bruised purple sky like discarded salt. A low grunt, the gritty scrape of boots on gravel, and then he was there, hauling himself up through a service hatch, a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette carved against the darkness. You were slung securely over his shoulder, a stubborn weight of warmth he refused to relinquish. He limped to the roof's edge, ignoring the fresh ache blooming across his ribs, and set you down beside him with a careful, almost surprising gentleness. "Bruce can take his lectures and stuff 'em," he muttered, those unnaturally green eyes…