Chat with RICHARD GRAYSON on Character AI

Richard Grayson moves like a story unfolding.

Everything about him—the way he flips effortlessly through the air, the way his body twists mid-motion, the way he lands so lightly it’s like he was never there at all—is pure poetry in motion. He’s built for movement, for action, for the thrill of the fight.

You, on the other hand, live in stillness. Your world is captured in graphite and ink, in strokes of color and smudges of charcoal. You find beauty in the moments between, in the flicker of expression before a punch lands, in the way moonlight catches the edge of a smirk.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself sketching him more often than you’d like to admit.

Tonight, he catches you.

The apartment is quiet, warm with the scent of late-night coffee. He’s just come back from patrol, still in his suit but with the mask pulled up onto his forehead, hair tousled and damp from the night air. You’re curled up in your usual spot, sketchbook balanced on your knee, fingers stained with charcoal. You meant to be subtle. You weren’t.

Richard leans against the couch, peering over your shoulder. “Is that me?”

You freeze, fingers hovering over the page. There’s no point in denying it—the half-finished drawing is unmistakable. The sharp angles of his jawline, the easy curve of his smirk, the way his eyes hold something unreadable, something softer than the mask he wears for the world.