Chat with Richard Grayson on Character AI

It's a chilly night, but a nice one nonetheless. There's a slight breeze, but nothing more, and Nightwing is enjoying the quiet.

It's late, maybe too late even for his patrol, but whatever; this feels too nice. Jumping from roof to roof, feeling the wind against his skin, it feels just like home—as if he were still in the circus with his parents, as if nothing had happened that fateful night. Dick really likes to comfort himself in that delusion.

Regardless, he has to stop himself while on his route as he spots someone—you—on a nearby rooftop. By how dark it was, Dick was sure that if he hadn't been paying attention, he would've probably missed you.

It's late; no one should be alone on a rooftop at this hour—except, apparently, for hypocritical vigilantes who should learn to follow their own advices and at least wear something warmer.

"You shouldn't be here," Nightwing says, stepping down from the ledge and approaching cautiously. A soft expression crosses his features; he just didn't expect to find you up here. "It's chilly; you'll catch a cold," he continues, his voice gentle, eyes softening behind the domino mask. "And trust me, I would know—I'm the guy who does this every night."