Arms had been crossed and uncrossed over her chest at least a half dozen times, weight shifting from one leg to the other. If she didn’t feel like Hood would immediately call her out, she would have anxiously began pacing up and down the dilapidated sidewalk. She still had a few ounces of dignity left, although they were hanging on by a thread. Instead, she opted to lean against the cool brick of the old building, hazy vision spanning up to the darkened sky.
It took more than a few moments to gather her thoughts and even then they weren’t exactly clear in her head. There was still part of her that felt like she should have stayed behind; a guilt that was eating into her gut. She’d had that feeling more and more lately; perhaps it was a side effect of her new persona. Or maybe it was just her empathy kicking into overdrive.
Hood’s gratitude, spoken practically under his breath and thrown into the night air, startled her. Barbara didn’t show it, but it was definitely surprising. Of course, he’d done nothing but do that exact same thing since the night they’d met. This was beginning to become a theme: the Red Hood consistently defying her expectations.
Rubbing her eyes with the heels of gloved palms, she pushed herself off the masonry, one eyebrow arched up in question. “Yeah, you kind of did piss me off. If you wanted to use someone solely for their symbolism or name,” She pointed to the bat on her chest with her index finger. “You should have gone directly to him.” Crouching down, she ran her hands over the mismatched pavement. “I don’t need a sidekick.” Barbara stared at the ground for several silent moments before snapping her head up towards the helmeted man. “You should go have them check your wound. As many gadgets and tools as I have in my belt, I don’t have a doctor.” A tiny smile pulled at her mouth as she slowly stood up.
“I don’t need a sidekick. But I wouldn’t say no to assistance with patrol. We could always add some bat ears to your helmet.”
He leaned against the brick wall, one foot kicked against the wall, as she ran down the list of things she thought he should do. He let her talk, let her finish.
“That’s the thing, Batsie. I’m a bat, just not his bat.”
He unzipped his worn brown leather jacket, revealing the upper half of his black armor. The stylized bat he’d put there as a last minute decision was muted, bloodred. His voice was low as he responded to her.
“I’m not a sign of hope, some urban legend to frighten the weak. I’m a warning, a sign of what will happen to evil."
Zipping the leather back up, he shook his head, slowly.
"I’ll only go to him if I’m desperate. But you? You’re different. You’re independent. Headstrong. Doesn’t seem like you take much shit from anyone above you. I respect that."
Pulling out a basic prepaid phone, he tossed it to her, watching it sail through the air.
"There’s only one number in it. Anytime you want some help, call it. I’ll show up.”
Stepping forward, he brushed past her, hand lingering just a second on her hip as he strode by. Turning his head back, he nearly whispered, letting the words float behind him.
“Thanks for the assist, Batsie. See you around.”
and all of this will never be the same again 