Claire watched Robin eat sushi.
He sat on the hotel room chair, stabbing supermarket sushi with a plastic fork.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgzrvKcrdcm
—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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwNv9bBE1PD
Didn’t look shy, either. Or like someone who gave a damn about appearances.
Claire wondered if she was dreaming.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf87rQYhhCy
—She was too used to being alone. Too used to staring down this looping, endless world on her own.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrQtd8kA8cH
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeCV8mb1R9q
—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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq7g1ySxEYb
—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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXitDL8ZgIr
Robin didn’t talk much, but every word had teeth.
“Because… I think my house might be haunted.”
57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeCZg8MCLOb
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…57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyMeDQMO9x5
Then the problem had to be the house.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw2FKnNu21P
—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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxwWWPgjmS4
The image was strange. Cathartic. Pointless.
Her mind drifted back to what she told the kid.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxi9q3Mqbwp
—“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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcEeBFOPIgg
Not the ghost kind of haunted.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8e3bEj0fWd
Worse.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCRQqEIVn81
Time-haunted.
The kid hadn’t believed her. Not entirely.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw7LLzNJPkg
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnV6lztXRM0
Nightwing was always there.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ76he81iq1g
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?57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuuxYMIgeMH
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7J8GlMxOCk
Then paused.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMZmF4xiVsf
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeX9NZl9dxt
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡABaDWj36jI
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg5nNzWnO9i
If it wasn’t…
She needed coffee. Stupidly strong coffee.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1oyBqcuCx4
Three spoons of sugar, minimum.
57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgdoNAbpdHg
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWI9yfr7XFZ
Just two guys dressed for Halloween a few weeks early, stopping by for a midnight wellness check.
They stepped inside.
Nightwing spoke first.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡof9RqxAwsL
"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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡinMlGHxvrW
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsqVBS1mcJL
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgBLbK4kkje
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,57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaClFUTNH5S
"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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMvrtVVEaem
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbfjsnhtXqi
The whole scene had taken a sharp turn into the absurd, teetering on the edge of surreal.
Should she deny it?57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpjWNUzAVRn
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,57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFGBiScfuMT
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.57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡthtgkEZZHJ
