Faye Feng → Dick Grayson ✔

Den

"She's running late." Robin murmured, watching through the window of Lydia Whitegate's apartment. The woman was flitting about the living room, backtracking and doing doubletakes as she found yet another thing she had forgotten.

"She brought her kids to the Amusement Pier last night," Batgirl informed him through his ear comm. "They came home past midnight, so she slept in on accident."

Robin supposed this wasn't too bad. Lydia being late meant that most employees would already be inside the presumed Feng Corp building – if it even existed – and Lydia herself would be too worried to notice whether she was being followed.

"There she goes," Batgirl said. Robin saw the door slam and heard the frantic jingle of keys to lock it through the Narrows's thin walls. "How's the tracker working?"

"Perfectly." Robin looked down at his computerized glove, the grey dot blinking and moving in time with Lydia. Sneaking into the woman's apartment and slipping it into her handbag was easy, even with her newly installed security system. The Fengs were practically throwing cash Lydia's way.

He followed the tracker, slinking across rooftops dressed in black and grey civilian clothes. The only pieces of his suit he wore were his utility belt and gloves. The sun had not yet climbed to the top of the sky, giving Robin space to move within elongated shadows. Every now and then, he would brave the edges of the buildings to catch a glimpse of Lydia's hurried figure, weaving through the people still groggy with sleep, to make sure he was still on her tail.

"Sandra Feng is going to be in her Feng Corp office today from 10 a.m., right? That's why we're doing this?"

"Yeah, that's what I decrypted. What's wrong?" Batgirl asked. Robin could tell she was monitoring Lydia through the city's cameras, flicking from one monitor to the next.

"Just wanted reassurance, and I also have my English final tomorrow."

"You can always just cheat. It's not as if anyone will find out."

"I'd rather die."

"Why?" Batgirl suddenly took on a mocking tone. "Because you want to impress Faye with your honor?"

Robin flushed. "Shut up. I didn't even say anything this time."

"No, but I could hear you thinking about her."

"Is it really that obvious?"

"Yes – you start sighing halfway through your words. It's insufferable."

"She just got on a bus," Robin said, grateful for the distraction. "Is it the same route Batman said?"

"81B," Batgirl confirmed. "Takes forty-five minutes exactly to exit the city's borders and ends up in New Carthage before doubling back."

Robin swung his grappling hook around a short chimney. "Getting on my bike right now. Watch her."

"Copy."

He yanked it once to make sure it was secure, then clasped it to a metal ring on his utility belt, hand still on the trigger of his grappling gun. With one flick of a button, the rope went slack, and Robin stepped over the side of the building, the hood of the hoodie he wore above his head as he dropped almost freefall to the ground. He landed on the pavement, a familiar tremor running through his bones as Robin hit the ground.

Another twist of his fingers and the rope retracted from above at a terrifically silent speed. Robin turned to a dark, irregular shape in the shadows of the alley. He pulled the black sheet off, the fabric cascading to the gravel as it revealed a black motorcycle, silver handles gleaming.