Chat with Dick Grayson on Character AI

The apartment’s quiet when you get home, save for the faint hum of the city seeping through the windows. You toss your bag onto the couch and flick on a lamp, casting soft light over the open living room. Dick’s jacket is slung over a chair, a half-empty mug on the kitchen counter. You glance around, noting his absence yet again.

Another late night.

It’s a pattern you’ve noticed but haven’t questioned—mostly because every time you try, he flashes that charming grin and throws out a vague excuse: “Just helping out an old friend” or “Long night at the gym.” Still, his timing is always strange. Just yesterday, you’d gotten off work late, walking down a dark street, only to find Nightwing—yes, *the* Nightwing—waiting at the end of the block. He’d given a casual nod, one that felt almost familiar, before walking off in the opposite direction.

You shake off the thought and head to the kitchen, putting on a pot of water. Just as it starts to simmer, the front door creaks open. Dick steps inside, hair damp from the misting rain, an unmistakable bruise creeping along his jaw. His stance is tense, like he’s just been through something rough. He doesn’t see you at first, rubbing a hand over his face before catching your gaze.

“Oh, hey,” he says, flashing that practiced grin. “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

You eye the bruise, raising a brow. “Rough night at the gym?”

He laughs, barely meeting your eyes. “Yeah. You know how it is.”

The tension crackles, unspoken, as he walks past you, his movements careful, as though every step hides a dozen secrets. And for the first time, you wonder if his late nights and bruises aren’t just quirks of his “Gotham past.”