oh-mother-of-darkness:

Cass sat on the rafters while Dick and Tim chattered beneath her. They hadn’t noticed her come in, so she sat by herself, swinging her boots back and forth in the emptiness, following along. Dick sat on a fraying couch while Tim bounced around him, telling a story about chasing a gunman by the docks. He paced around the room and ducked behind the furniture to demonstrate, laughing the entire time. 

There were words too, of course. Cass could hear them just fine, even if she didn’t recognize them. She tried closing her eyes, listening carefully, but Tim talked too fast, and there were too many words, and she could hear him moving around, anyway: across the room, behind the couch, springing over it to mime surprising the gunman. The movement alone told her everything she needed to know. 

It was… Cass didn’t know the word to describe it, but it felt like being lost in the alleyways that spanned the city, turning the same corners over and over again without moving any further. It was black and heavy, and it made her body ache. 

Dick didn’t laugh like that with her. No one did. No one sat with her or leaned towards her or even brushed by her in tight spaces. Tim’s eyes followed her around rooms, and Cass knew it wasn’t malicious. She moved too silently, and she startled him often. It didn’t happen if he knew where she was. 

Still. He didn’t watch the others. It didn’t matter that Bruce was quiet too. 

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