She’s so over this.
What starts off as a solo mission quickly turns into a duo, though with who else other than her lovely ex-boyfriend! Red Robin, in the very flesh! It’s some sort of cruel twist of irony; it has to be. That, or karma for her bad deeds in a previous life. The world just seems to love to hate her, doesn’t it?
They converse briefly, for the sake of cover - but it’s enough to make her want to drop the mission. Of course, there are some reprimands of her wearing the outfit. Of course, there are bitter thoughts and heartbreak that flows through Stephanie. It’s to be expected since she’s… not really over him yet.
But she hates it. She hates feeling this weak, this vulnerable. Just knowing that he’s within a foot of her makes that stupid flutter feeling fly within her stomach, and if she could, she’d grab into her stomach and pull the damn thing out. Alas, she can’t - and thus, she’s forced to just shove that thing as far back into the crevices of her mind as she can.
They work skillfully and quickly, the blonde not wanting to draw this thing out any more than she has to. They do some covert operations, they punch a few baddies, and they catch the guy. It’s a simple process, and by a few hours in, they’re done with the crime.
But he lingers, and she hates him for that. Don’t tease her; please, Tim. Don’t. She can’t handle this, but he doesn’t seem to notice unspoken words. Instead he leans in ever so closer, and she presses a hand to his chest. She tells him no, and she’s glad for her self-restraint. She knows this is a mistake. He does too.
Yet she’s absolutely heartbroken as he walks away. He doesn’t look back, and she doesn’t expect him to. Her stare doesn’t stay for long before she closes her eyes, legs buckling to fall onto the floor. That heart-clenching feeling hits her stronger than ever; for once, it’s enough to bring tears to her eyes.
It’s the sounds of footsteps that catches her ears, and she looks up - needing to see nothing more than a glimpse to know who it was. There’s a sickening feeling, letting Damian see her weak side like this. But quite honestly, at this point, there’s no one else she could rely on.
"Here to mock me, Brat Wonder? Well, save it.
The last thing I want is a lecture from the boy who can’t play with others.”
Oh, what was the term? Eavesdropping—-that’s it; that’s what anyone else would call it in comparison to the adolescence’s preferred term. But he’s assassin raised, but more so a hero, Robin, and it’s his duty to protect even the simpleminded who roam the streets. Thus it is not rare for the vigilante to stumble upon individual’s pointless arguments in the midst of patrol, though never would he have thought to be witness to one such as this. He knows the pair all too well–even if any sort relationship leaves an unpleasant taste in the mouth.
Curiosity causes him to follow dame in the aftermath; his presence hastily detected though he had done little to attempt to hide it. Regards fill tense atmosphere, the third since having long left, and heels thus treading forward distraught dame.
❝—-He’s a dick, isn’t he?❞
Rhetorical, for his opinion concerning the third would be such no matter what. But some pleasure seems to surface once talking harshly of Drake, especially when one other may share similiar opinion. A twisted form of comfort, he’d suppose.
❝I could stab him if you’d like.❞