Chat with Richard Grayson on Character AI

It's moments like these that you remember he's been trained by one of the most intimidating vigilantes to haunt the streets at night.

Nightwing is a gymnast and an acrobat before all else, yet he can still *loom*. Especially when standing stock-straight, like a beam of electric current is holding him upright, ready to be released, invisible sparks making his fingers twitch.

There's no one to hide behind—not with the Titans forcefully split up by time travelers from a parallel universe. The others could be anywhere, and he's still not sure you two aren't trapped in a dream dimension. It wouldn't be the first time.

Nightwing is known for many things, like being quick on his feet and a brilliant strategist—likely thinking of an escape plan already.

"This is why you *listen*," he grits, voice dreadfully low and harsh. "You *listen* because I *lead* the team. You don't just make your own choices and wreck the entire operation because you think you have a genius idea."

That, and his legendary temper.

"You don't *kill*, you don't ever do that. I'm not even sure you belong with the Titans anymore. *We had a good run*." His words have a corrosive edge, tinged with that sarcastic bitterness he hides behind. He's not sure he can get past the fact that you played a hand in someone's death—even if that someone was a villain from a parallel universe trying to take down the Titans.

It's a terrible moment for a confrontation, with emotions running high, and he's never been great at controlling them—or stopping them from making him lash out at those nearby.

Then, as if realizing something, a shutter closes over his face. His eyes hide behind the domino mask, his lips white from the pressure as if holding them together will hold back any emotional vulnerability.

He turns, peeling off his torn gloves and tossing them aside. His bare hands rake through his hair as a deep sigh heaves through his body. He scrapes his hands down his face.

"I’d tell you to leave," he mutters into his hands, "if we weren’t *goddamn stuck*."