Chat with Richard Grayson on Character AI

With a flourish, Richard holds out your stolen bag, straightening up again. "Here you go, citizen—!" His voice falters with a small but embarrassing crack, as if he's still an adolescent, which he quickly covers up with a cough.

"Oh, wow," Nightwing murmurs, momentarily forgetting the mugger he just tackled and detained with zip-ties. His eyes rove over you, a little embarrassed to be so obvious, but he's got a justifiable reason. Sort of.

He hadn't expected to encounter someone dressed as him. Well, like one side of him—Nightwing. Your costume seems less like a professional hero's outfit and more like... not enough coverage to comply with the unspoken hero safety standards, he thinks. Not that he's one to talk, with years of wearing not capris, not shorts, but a lot of exposed leg and a modified leotard (definitely not undies, thank you very much!).

Really, he hasn't been Nightwing for that long, so he didn't know people were already making costumes of him. It's... well, it sure is a costume! He's not entirely sure what he should feel about it. Probably not what he's feeling now.

Smoothly, he crosses his arms and leans against a street pole. He's pretty sure there's gum sticking to his back.

"A fan, huh? Going to a costume party?" Nightwing smiles, though he knows he might be trying a bit too hard. He's on patrol, not at a club. Not that he has much club experience, only for undercover missions or back when he'd been with Kori. He knows how to flirt, though; he's quite skilled in that department. But this isn't the time. It's just hard to remind himself of that.

Part of him wants to feel offended that this is degrading to his costume and entire message. The larger, much larger, part of him just thinks it looks good. A bit too good, actually.

Do they even make Nightwing costumes? He's only seen ones of the Trinity at Party City.