What's the next step?

[_bird_of_flame_]

So, I've asked someone out and sort of obliquely asked been asked out by someone

Comments

[_nightwing_]

Not bad for a girl.

[_bird_of_flame_]

The comment, at the moment, goes ignored. She allows herself to swing back down, her legs spltting as she flips up and over the bar, catching herself. She continues to push herself, spinning and after a minute or two more, she does a triple back and sticks the landing.

Of course, then she actually looks over at where the comment is coming from and she goes pale. That's... That... "Robin?"

[_nightwing_]

He's leaning against the wall, bold as brass, arms folded; a characteristic grin on his face. He can't be more than fifteen at most.

That's my name, don't wear it out.

[_bird_of_flame_]

It... It's him. About the same age as when she first saw him. "This is really, really weird."

[_nightwing_]

Contrarily, he doesn't seem fazed as he pushes off the wall and looks around the gym. He moves easily into a one-handed handstand, looking back at her from his upside-down position.

You look like you've seen a ghost. What's eatin' ya?

[_bird_of_flame_]

"You're not dead, otherwise I might be seeing one." Bette pauses and then shakes her head, "You're at least ten years younger than you should be. I think I need to sit down."

[_nightwing_]

He rights himself, frowning at her in confusion.

Nuh-uh!

The perplexed expression deepens, then becomes wary.

Are you like Poison Ivy or something, and you're messing with my mind? 'Cos if you are I'm gonna have to kick your ass.

[_bird_of_flame_]

"Oh please. You couldn't kick my ass at this age. You certainly can now, though. Besides, do I /look/ like Poison Ivy?" Bette makes a face at him, not quite sticking out her tongue but it isn't a hell of a lot more mature than that.

[_nightwing_]

He looks singularly indignant, dropping into a defensive forward stance, hands balling into fists.

Oh yeah? C'mon!

[_bird_of_flame_]

"You've got to be kidding me, right?" She looks at him for a few moments and she can see why she fell for him, even back then but it is harder to see.

"If you want me to kick your butt, feel free to try to bring it."

[_nightwing_]

You can try, lady.

He means business as he moves closer. He doesn't have that bravado for nothing.

I don't know what your game is, but you're not gonna win!

[_bird_of_flame_]

"I didn't bring you here. I don't know why you're here. I'm sorry that you are..." Oh. That might have been too much. Well. He's like, what, thirteen? He won't notice. She holds herself in a defensive position.

[_nightwing_]

He makes the first move, feinting with a knife hand strike that disguises a punch aimed at the solar plexus. He may not be as strong as his future counterpart, but he's fast.

[_bird_of_flame_]

He is fast. Bette stops thinking about Robin being a kid. He's still excellent, nonetheless. She turns to the side and kicks out toward his chest, his punch connecting as she rolls, minimizing the effect.

[_nightwing_]

Contact, though not as much contact as he'd like. Her foot lands square, propelling him into a backward somersault. Determined, the young boy comes back up on one hand and kicks out at her with both feet, aiming to knock her down.

[_bird_of_flame_]

Reaching out, Bette wraps her arms around his feet and allows the kick to push her backward, moving with it and bringing him with her. It's not the best landing she's ever made but she tries to hold his feet. "I've never wanted to hurt you and I'm sorry I never told you that.... why ever you're here now."