What if Robin stays Slade's apprentice? What if the Titans don't find the nano-bugs?
Robin is alone. No one can save him from the situation he's in. It's up to him to somehow make contact with the Titans, or better still... Batman.
"You don't look so good." Windstorm insists, crossing his arms.
Robin's mind is still buzzing with adrenaline. For a moment he can only stare helplessly, his emotions unmasked and his aching fist still pressed against his chest. He can't find the words to reply, but what is there to say, anyway? This is a villain. Robin can't trust his intentions, and even if he does, Robin can't tell him why he's upset. Slade wants people to think Robin's decisions are his own. It would compromise that if they knew he was being monitored, or fed orders through an earpiece.
So Robin keeps his mouth shut, shoulders sagging as defeat saps the rest of his strength. He turns away from Windstorm, dropping himself onto his bed.
"Yeah." He agrees, the word coming out as more of a sigh.
A contemplative silence settles between them, Robin lacking the resolve to neither encourage nor dismiss his guest. He keeps his head down as he massages his hand, feeling his heartbeat pulsing in his palm. His thoughts keep returning to his mask, and the camera. He's all but forgotten about the other presence in the room when Windstorm finally comes to a decision.
"May I join you?"
"Sure." Robin shrugs with fake nonchalance, looking up. He flinches when he finds Windstorm already seated next to him, chewing on an energy bar. When did he...?
Windstorm ignores Robin's reaction, keeping his eyes trained on the opposite wall. Robin can't help his own curious stare, however. Was this him trying to be considerate? Robin forces his posture to appear relaxed as well, slowly lowering his arms to rest at his sides. He's willing to play along, if only to find out what Windstorm does next.
He watches Windstorm bite down on the bar enough to secure it between his teeth, pulling the wrapper away. He pockets his trash and takes out another bar with the same motion, holding it out to Robin.
"Wan' one?" He asks around his mouthful, the bar wiggling with the movement of his jaw.
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The eye covers on Robin's mask narrow, but he tentatively accepts the offer. He inspects the steely grey packaging, and bristles with indignant recognition. His head snaps to Windstorm.
"Is this— mine?"
His attention returns to Windstorm in time to see him hold up a third identical energy bar, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You have good taste." The thief replies simply, not sparing a second glance as he fiddles with the wrapper.
"Hey, stop!" Robin demands, his hand shooting towards it. Windstorm flies to his feet, snickering and lifting the bar over his head. Robin stands and reaches for it, but his fingers barely brush the packaging's serrated edge.
"Ooh, almost." Windstorm laments. "Maybe if you ate your veggies."
Heat floods Robin's cheeks, and he strains to stretch himself further. To his dismay, this only prompts Windstorm to raise it higher.
