Claire watched Robin eat sushi.
He sat on the hotel room chair, stabbing supermarket sushi with a plastic fork.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz1OnQ2VMVe
—Definitely not the right tool for sushi, but the kid made it work. Neat, efficient. Not a single grain of rice escaped.
He wasn’t in a hurry.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPc8VWY4kGu
Didn’t look shy, either. Or like someone who gave a damn about appearances.
Claire wondered if she was dreaming.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqHMYCRsoqo
—She was too used to being alone. Too used to staring down this looping, endless world on her own.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡud20CqX69p
Now there was a caped kid sitting across from her, eating discount sushi under flickering hotel lights. She didn’t even want to check if this was real.
“Mind if I ask… what exactly are you doing in Blüdhaven?”
—She wasn’t being suspicious. Just… confused. Like someone who spotted a character from the wrong game spawning in the wrong level.
Robin looked up, still chewing his late dinner. His eyes studied her with unsettling calm, like he was deciding whether she was worth answering.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3YbunPxF49
—Too sharp for someone his age. Like someone trained to watch from the dark.
“I’m Claire. From Gotham.”
—She didn’t bother making her voice friendly. Just dropped the name like a password. Gotham meant: I know where you come from too.
Robin swallowed. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Who?”
A pause. Then, quieter: “Nightwing.”
—The tone shifted. He wasn’t looking for a “city hero.” He was looking for someone that mattered to him.
“Oh, that guy,” Claire checked her beat-up watch. “You’ll find him on the balcony of the café next to the precinct. 11:11 PM sharp.”
Robin’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
—Not a child’s question. More like Gotham instinct: anyone who knows too much is trouble.
Claire shrugged. “Maybe… because that café’s my place.”
—Flat delivery. No challenge, no explanation. The kind of line that says: Believe it or don’t, kid. Doesn’t change the facts.
Robin wasn’t buying it. “If it’s your place, why are you staying at a hotel?”
—A counterstrike. Calm voice, but his diction got sharper. Like he was saying: I’m not dumb. Don’t treat me like some civilian brat.
Claire smiled—and without warning, pinched his cheek.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb6B1Y0xeoK
—No hesitation. No “May I?” Just pure Gotham Auntie reflex. Check if it’s a bomb. Give it a squeeze first.
This suspicious little gremlin was adorable.
Kids never came to her café. It’d been too long since she got to verbally spar with one.
She missed this. The kind of conversation where the other party actually bites back.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmvUIULKHGJ
Robin didn’t talk much, but every word had teeth.
“Because… I think my house might be haunted.”
43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRHQPiY5PCw
Claire lay on the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling.
She wasn’t sure if she should try sleeping or just stay awake.
If she fell asleep and did wake up to tomorrow…43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmsp4LnxDer
Then the problem had to be the house.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Z5Cj3hYga
—The building. The bed. The old backdoor of the café. Any one of them could be the reset point. Like a curse with a GPS coordinate.
So, how does one fix a haunted house?
—Move? Sell it? Burn it down?
She pictured herself setting the place on fire—her aunt’s old house going up in flames—then waking up to the same day anyway.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNa8XTSeFJ4
The image was strange. Cathartic. Pointless.
Her mind drifted back to what she told the kid.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ893op2sx6P
—“I think my house is haunted.”
It had been a joke. Sort of. But the more she thought about it, the more it sounded like some kind of blurry truth.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvNNMOP6HcE
Not the ghost kind of haunted.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzkOG6QqIWX
Worse.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfcEYO7qshO
Time-haunted.
The kid hadn’t believed her. Not entirely.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMtzIl10DYk
He kept glancing back as he left, suspicion etched into his face.
—Not mistrust, exactly. More like: You’re hiding something, aren’t you?
She almost said, You’re still too young to get it—sometimes women just don’t feel like explaining things. But she kept her mouth shut.
Would he find Nightwing?
Probably.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6xOMKW4Z2c
Nightwing was always there.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFfj0mRdBtx
Same place, same time, same angle.
She’d seen it a dozen times.
She’d only stopped short of waving at him like, Nice to see your butt’s still perky today.
But wasn’t Robin tied to Batman?43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXWRc8AeLqV
What was he doing looking for Nightwing?
…Switched sides?
—Honestly, Nightwing seemed more chill than Batman. At least he didn’t growl at kids like a thundercloud with a vendetta.
If Robin had switched over, Nightwing wouldn’t be the type to mistreat him… right?
—The thought was ridiculous. She snorted softly.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNLuMrtrfrt
Then paused.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCtJiQPf4YP
What if there was something she didn’t know?
Her thoughts spiraled as her eyelids grew heavier.
She told herself: If I sleep and the day resets again, then that’s that.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmBxKrpKGTI
A dream. A loop. Or tomorrow. Whatever.
And just as she was about to drift off—
A knock on the window.
—Not loud. Polite. Familiar. Like a neighbor coming to borrow soy sauce.
Claire opened her eyes. Sat up. Slowly pulled the curtain aside.
One tall, one short.
The tall one waved at her, smiling.
—That kind of Hey, it’s us again! smile. Like it wasn’t midnight. Like she wasn’t maybe two thoughts away from a breakdown.
She wondered if she’d finally fallen asleep and slipped into some high-budget fever dream.
Nightwing and Robin. Knocking on her hotel window at night.
—She didn’t react right away. Just stared at them.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Eexe7sZtV
Like a TV show had accidentally started filming on her balcony, complete with stunts and special effects.
If this was a dream, the production value was impressive.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoYlCWDbwMc
If it wasn’t…
She needed coffee. Stupidly strong coffee.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrG4sV8Ry77
Three spoons of sugar, minimum.
43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAxbvFGVjHh
Claire unlatched the window and gave herself a mental pep talk.
You're just letting in guests. Through the window. That's all.
Not a break-in. Not a caped crusader crash-landing.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGod8ruezIR
Just two guys dressed for Halloween a few weeks early, stopping by for a midnight wellness check.
They stepped inside.
Nightwing spoke first.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPbELslNlNI
"Sorry to drop in this late. But—Robin said you might be... dealing with something. Thought I’d check in. Also... thanks for the sushi."
His voice caught her off guard—gentler than expected.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe6jVA75kVC
Not the rehearsed hero timbre. Not the kind of voice you use for press conferences.
It was more like the guy on neighborhood watch who's genuinely worried you're not sleeping enough.
Claire looked at him.
This was the first time she'd really seen Nightwing.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTQOY5Fnvkt
Not his silhouette. Not his ass. Not a blurry action shot in the local paper.
Just him. Standing in her room. Real and close.
He was masked, sure—but young.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2gv59N6a5I
Younger than she'd imagined. Way more human. Way less myth.
She even thought she could smell his detergent.
Did he say I have worries?
Yeah. She did.
Capital-W Worries. The kind that don't fit in one sentence.
But... Robin told him?
Claire glanced down at the kid.
He looked awkward, almost guilty, and mumbled,43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLH80POciyh
"You told me. About the ghost in your place. So... I told him."
Like it was no big deal. Like she’d mentioned her AC was acting up and he’d just submitted a repair ticket.
Claire looked back up.
Right. Ghosts.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡac2fGH2ogK
The made-up kind you use to spook nosy kids.
Crap. Now what?
Her brain felt like a cat had swiped at it—fur everywhere, logic in tatters.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7yK6qw43sj
The whole scene had taken a sharp turn into the absurd, teetering on the edge of surreal.
Should she deny it?43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9CEJoXxy80
Play it off as some kind of metaphor?
She looked at Nightwing, still standing there, waiting—politely, quietly, like a very attentive social worker in spandex.
Robin had his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, wearing a look that screamed,43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk7RbBFsc4R
My job here is done. Grown-ups can take it from here.
The whole thing felt like a misunderstanding.
But one that was way too vivid to be a dream.43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcNyBKgXoeK
and then Add to home screen.