19354/Magic, Lies, and Missed Chances

Magic, Lies, and Missed Chances
Date of Scene:	23 October 2024
Location:	Empire State University
Synopsis:	Dick comes to visit Gwen at ESU, and Gwen reveals that they've met before... four years ago.
Cast of Characters:	Gwen Stacy, Dick Grayson

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Gwen Stacy has posed:
It's been about a week since Gwen Stacy fell back into touch with Dick Grayson again... literally. And that meeting had gone not at all as she expected it to. Not only did he not remember her -- which, considering how much she knew about his public and private personas, seems unlikely until you realize magic was at play -- he... kissed her.

Dick Grayson, on a balcony of the Gotham Royal Hotel, kissed her, and she's been reeling from that kiss ever since. Which means the last few days have been... kinda nuts. Like, she nearly choked to death on a cheeseburger because someone said his name nuts.

You see... the problem wasn't the kiss. The kiss was... amazing. The problem was that he knew _so_ much about him, but she spent all evening pretending she didn't because...

...because she panicked. Because she wasn't sure how to tell him what happened in the first few seconds, and every second after that, it got harder and harder and harder to ask for a do-over so she could just tell him what was going on. And the next thing she knew, he's kissing her, and... and Dick Grayson has _never_ wanted to kiss her. And now she's worried if she tells him the truth...

"Miss Stacy?"

Gwen blinks at the sound of her name, looking up at and blinking at the professor like she didn't even recognize him. She looks... tired. Like she hasn't slept much the last couple of days.

"Miss Stacy, can you explain the potential implications of CRISPR-Cas9 in germline editing, and why ethical concerns have been raised regarding its use in human embryos?"

Think, Gwen. "Um, yeah. CRISPR-Cas9 can be used to edit DNA in germline cells, meaning those changes would be passed down to future generations. That's where the ethical concerns come in -- because we're talking about altering the genetic code of someone who hasn't been born yet, without their consent. Plus, there's the risk of unintended mutations or off-target effects that could cause more harm than good."

"That's correct."

Gwen looks down at her sleeve, pulling it up enough to reveal her watch. Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes until she's supposed to meet Dick Grayson at the bench underneath the big maple tree outside the Applied Sciences building of Empire State University.

Because Dick Grayson came all the way from Gotham. To see HER. Like she's living in yet ANOTHER alternate dimension, where somehow he didn't summarily shoot her down that first night. Oh God. Why is everything ALWAYS this complicated? She literally bailed on Wally _this_ morning at 3AM, was struggling to stay awake so she could get to class, got a text from Dick about coming to see her today, and then spent the rest of the morning _fretting_ about Dick coming to see her. Because, let's face it. On top of everything else, she bailed on Wally because she wan't looking for a relationship. She sucks at them. So, she _tried_ to strike up a friendship, and apparently she's no good at that, either.

Of course, it didn't help that Eddie was there, and now _he_ thinks she was on a date.. even though she wasn't. But Wally obviously thought they were on a date, so maybe she _was_ on a date, but she wasn't _trying_ to date. She didn't _want_ to date.

Which was obviously why she'd been texting back and with with Dick all week, right? And why she was about to crawl out of her skin, feeling every second tick by? Because she wasn't looking forward to seeing him again?

"Ugh," she groans, setting her face in her hands.

"Miss Stacy?"

"Sorry."

...Fifteen minutes later, there's the sound of closing books. "Class dismissed."

Gwen is on her feet, grabbing her green canvas backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. She's wearing a comfy cardigan over a cropped, striped shirt in autumn colors, denim shorts, black leggings, and her Chucks. It's not exactly 'sexy,' and it had occurred to her about 8,372 times that she could just swing back home and change into something more... appealing. But, for one reason or another, she didn't.

And now she's walking out of the Applied Sciences building am

Gwen Stacy has posed:
And now she's walking out of the Applied Sciences building amid a herd of other students, and it's too late, because she's looking around for the man she's supposed to be meeting.

Dick Grayson has posed:
You would think that the whole idea of butterflies when a - no, not a relationship, just a casually meeting - is about to begin would eventually become a thing of the past. It is not, afterall, like Dick Grayson is a kid anymore. He's not even a twenty-something at this point, having turned thirty almost eight months ago.

Add to that the fact that it's not like the r-word is a new thing to him. Something that he isn't used to. He was engaged, up until only a short time ago afterall.

Of course that comes with its own complications. While things might have ended amicably enough, it is still represents several years of his life devoted to one person. One person who is no longer in his life - or at least doesn't play anywhere near as significant role in his personal life. It would be a little bit hard to seperate her out of his professional life all things considered. They are the Bat 'Family' afterall.

And everyone knows that you don't pick fmaily. You inherit it and deal with the one that you have.

Dick Grayson might be as okay as he can possibly be with the idea that his engagement, his relationship to Stephanie Brown is over. But it is one thing to accept something and quite another to deal with all those lingering emotions, no matter how maturely they might have been able to address things.

So the long and short of it is that he would be absolutely insane for him to be this drawn to another person - someone who has a perfect stranger a week ago. Someone he had never encountered before in his life - to his knowledge at least. And despite that, despite one little rational corner of his mind suggesting that all of this is a very bad idea, he has spent a disproprtionate amount of his time thinking about a certain blonde with just a bit of an attitude.

And one very scintilating kiss and the resulting walk through Gotham's dark night.

If it was one of the others there is no doubt his advice to them would be calm and sensible. That they should take things slow, that they should spend the time to properly, thoroughly get to know one another so that there are no nasty surprises that crop up later. To make sure that they are drawn to the person that they are because of who they are and not the fact that they are just used to having someone - anyone - in that part of their life.

It makes perfect sense of course. But Dick Grayson is having a very difficult time following that particular advice.

That he messaged her every day -- sometimes to a pretty excessive amount is proof enough that it was not enough to just talk to her - no matter how great that might be. No, Dick wanted to see her again and the fact that he had already been given a few obvious in's to suggest they meet up was pretty much just the icing on the cake.

He is not completely at loose ends of course. He does have his job as a member of the GCPD. And there are his duties of Nightwing naturally. Both of which occupy a pretty large chunk of his time.

Nor can she be expected to drop everything either, given her schooling. And an assortment of other distractions that he has no idea about. Yet.

All of which is to say that the dark haired young man was more then a little impatient when they finally found a time that would work for both of them. Which of course led to his own struggles getting ready for this meeting. Not quite as dramatic and frought with potential emotional damage as her own, but still present.

Neither one of them were exactly going to be able to match th elegance of their dress upon their first meeting. Tuxedos and fancy dresses are not exactly the order of the day on college campuses. But it is possible - maybe even likely - to assume that Dick might have gone through a few different outfits before settling upon those dark slacks and green, long sleeved shirt that wards off that faint autumn chill in the air.

He may have even brought a jacket. Just in case there is call to use it again.

Dick Grayson has posed:
He also might have looked into her schedule. The fact that she wanted to meet here certainly narrowed things down and he already knew she was a bio-chem Major. After that it wasn't hard to figure what class she was likely to be in - without even going to the extremes of hacking the university computer system to get her schedule.

It can be a fine line between enthusiastic and creepy.

So with some difficulty, he has kept himself from slipping into to join her in that last class of the day. Even when she emerges he manages to keep from making a headlong dash in her direction.

But it might have been a clsoe thing.

Instead a smile slides over Dick's features and he lifts a hand to wave at her, starting over in her direction. "Hey! I was hoping I wasn't going to be late," he says warmly.

Which is pretty much a lie. Or at least an exaggeration, given that he has been here for more then a half hour. Just in case.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Hey! I was hoping I wasn't going to be late.

...Me too.

Gwen doesn't say that, of course, but it's a small voice that sighs the words wistfully into her mind as the relief of seeing him fully washes over her. In that one moment, the whole morning full of stress as she wondered what to wear, what to say, what to do... it all seemed to be for nothing. Because as soon as she laid eyes on him, all of that stress just... bled away.

Nightwing had been the first person to find her when she landed in this dimension. She'd been beaten up, bloodied, wearing a ripped costume and suffering from motion sickness, time sickness, inter-dimensional sickness, and probably a few sicknesses she didn't even realize she had. The dimensional research lab she'd been hiding in had exploded when a stray bullet from a cop's gun hit a piece of equipment, and she'd been deposited in this timeline. Nightwing had taken her in, given her shelter, trusted her with his identity...

...which is _maybe_ why she hits him at a run.

It's not a full sprint or anything. She's not trying to knock him down. But it might be hard enough to get him to take a step to steady himself. Her arms come around his middle, for a moment, she seems entirely satisfied to cling there, to press her cheek into his chest, to inhale the scent of him... the scent she's lived a week with only the moment of, the way it wafted up from the inside of his jacket while she'd been wearing it.

And so it's there she's latched on until enough seconds that it actually starts to feel a little awkward. Because this is _only_ their second meeting.

Except... it's not.

It is the only time she's run up and given him a hug, though. And the only time that, when she finally does loosen her grip (which is surprisingly strong for a girl her size), she looks up at him and smiles. And there just _might_ be a twinkle in her eye and in her smile that begs for a repeat of that moment on the balcony. Except she seems almost too flustered to wait for it and too conflicted to try to scale the five inches to get him, so she goes right on talking...

"Hey. No, you're... right on time. Class just let out. You look..."

Don't say hot. Don't say hot. Don't say hot.

"...really nice."

Phew.

Of course, just then, there's a couple of other girls walking by together who whisper (easily loudly enough to be heard, which was probably the point), "He's _so_ hot... who's she? Isn't that the girl from biochem?"
Surely Dick was used to that by now, right? Gwen just seemed to pretend it didn't even happen.

"So, I was thinking that... I don't have any assignments to turn in this afternoon, so maybe, depending on how much time you have, I could... give you the life of Gwen Stacy nickel tour. I don't live far from here. We could walk there. Maybe... get some ice cream or something."

Dick Grayson has posed:
It's probably a good thing that Dick found just enough restraint to resist running at her as well. While many a Meet-Cute story might begin with some casual run in or mild accident that doesn't really sound all that much fun. Bonking heads definitely does not seem like the best way to get this little outting of theres off on the right foot.

And no matter how many times Dick tries to tell himself that it doesn't matter, that he can't possibly be ready for anything serious yet and that she probably isn't all that interested, he can't quite bring himself to believe that particular story.

Which, if he is honest, rather suggests that he wants it to mean something.

He can't believe just how quickly that smile blooms on his expression, just at the sight of her and while it is probably best for their physical well being that one of them managed to not break into a headlong dash, Dick would absolutely be lying if he tried to claim not to be a little gratified by her obvious excitement to see him.

And excitement that is reflected in his own eyes as those arms immediately spread to take her in. To draw her close to him once more.

Look, if she were some shy, retreating flower that wouldn't really make her any less special. But maybe just a little less of a likelly match for him and the dark haired man is indeed forced to give way a step or two to maintain his balance, to stay upright.

Though admittedly, going down and dragging her right along with him -- or at least trying -- does seem like a pretty good idea for just a moment.

But instead his arms slip around her in turn, not even entirely realizing just how much he missed this until he has the chance to renew that sense of her pressed close to him. For a moment his face buries in her hair atop her head, the scent of her shampoo and the scent that is unmistakably, undeniably hers and hers alone mingles in his senses and he shows no more inclination to let go of her then she does of him.

This is the campus of Empire State University. It isn't a moonlit balcony in Gotham. There are hundreds of people around, students milling about, heaving to their next class or home for the day or to the library or any other number of activities. They aren't alone, like they were that evening.

But he still has that same insidious desire to kiss her, to feel her lips under his own as he did that night and before he can stop himself he leans in closer as if to do just that. Only the realization that he's pretty sure that if he does, he won't be able to stop, that he'll just lift her into his arms as they lose the light, as they lose the rest of the day makes them slide just a little further then intended, to graze the cheek of his sister and law.

"It is really, really good to see you again," he murmurs lowly, drawing back a few inches, enough to meet her gaze but not so far to completely rule out the possibility that his lips might find hers again, regardless of how bad a time it might be. If he hears any of the passing girls, he certainly gives no sign of it, his eyes for Gwen and Gwen alone in that moment.
"I think that's an amazing idea," he asserts, that smile asserting itself once more, forcing itself back to the forefront. "The tour, and possibly the ice cream too," he agrees without hesitation before blinking. "Oh, and don't let me forget. I come bearing gifts too. Or, well, -a- gift at least."

'Gwen Stacy has posed:
"It's good to see you, too."

There's _so_ much weight in those words that spill past her lips. A million tons, and yet they're carried on a breath of... release -- as if she'd been carrying them all the way from last week and she could finally set them down.

Gwen's eyes close, shutting the windows to those emotions as she leans in again -- not to kiss him, not even to hug him as tightly as before, but just to stretch up onto her toes and press her cheek, once more, against his. It's ridiculously comforting and intimate, yet it somehow lacks the 'impact' of a mid-day make-out session on the Applied Sciences lawn.

"You have no idea," she breathes, hands resting lightly on his chest, the words barely above a whisper, perhaps not even meant to carry the inches to his ear.

But after a moment, she's leaning back again and smiling, giving a little nod with her chin towards one of the paths. "It's this way..." And even as she says the words, she turning to sort of 'lead,' even though she doesn't actually get in front of him. As a matter of fact, once they've fallen in, side by side, there's a little glance down.. a turning and offering of her hand without making a big deal about it.

...well, -a- gift at least.

"Why?"

Yeah. It sounds just that ungrateful. But it's the first thing that she blurts out with barely a heartbeat in between the statement and the resulting spontaneous utterance.

"I mean..." Her voice softens. "I didn't invite you here to buy me things."

Was that supposed to be an apology for her tone? Or at least an explanation? Because it kind of comes out as even more tone.

It kind of comes out with the tone that suggests she's used to everything being battle -- figuratively and literally. That nothing is easy. That everything, everything, _everything_ has a price.

Maybe he was expecting the kind of girl that got excited and grateful when he brought her surprises. Unfortunately, Gwen hasn't had very much success with surprises.

Dick Grayson has posed:
He has - thus far at least - resisted the impulse to look up all he can about her, to put the formidable resources of the Bat Computer and all the many and varied networks and database it is connected to in order to find out more about this woman who has managed to sneak her way into his thoughts without even trying.

It hasn't exactly been easy either. Especially given some of the things she has said, has sort of implied since he met her for the first time - to his knowledge - at that charity function in Gotham.

While he continues to insist, at least to himself, that this is not, in fact, the start of another relationship, there is still the clear desire to do things the right way. And that doesn't really begin by poking through secured databses to find out anything and everything he can about Gwen stacy. It doesn't include just showing up in the middle of her class and sneaking into the sneak next to her. It might seem charming on the surface, but it also suggests a certain lack of regard for her privacy. Not to mention a degree of disrespect to her education, something that is clearly important to her given that she's a graduate student. Not generally something one understakes lightly.

So he has resisted. Dick has committed to getting to know her the old fashion way. Not even a Google search. Really, in this day and age his restraint is practically superhuman.

He falls in at her side at once, that unspoken invitation to take up her hand seemingly seized upon, fingers slipping in amongst her own as they stroll along the grounds, the trees that dot the green already beginning to turn, to lets their multi-colored leaves fall, to waft on the breeze and land scattered amongst the green grass.

And somehow things seem more right then they have in a long time..

Is he taken back by her question? Maybe, though if so it is barely apparent in the glance he shoots her. Like his mentor, he too is a student of psychology, of the human minds and what drives them. And he really doesn't sense anything melicious from her. He can think of a dozen reasons or more why she might not particularly care for a gift under the circumstances and while there might be a flicker of surprise in his eyes, there isn't even a hint of reproach.

"I was just thinking of you and thought you might like it, given our last meeting," he says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before finally glancing away for a moment, free hand rifling through his jacket pocket before emerging with a pass, holding it up to her with a grin. "Hopefully you didn't rush out and get one afterall, but I thought you could maybe use that Hyperloop pass," he says, holding it out to her.

Those eyes glint for a moment. "Please. I'm sure you can make good use of it," he insists, folding her free hand around it. "And if one of those good uses is to stop by and visiting me in Gotham from time to time I wouldn't complain. And would probably be inclined to maybe return the favorif you're not sick of my company by the end of the day," Dick offers up with a lopsided smile.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
A million _horrible_ images had already flashed through her mind, mostly filled with diamonds and pearls -- the kind of gifts rich guys buy for shallow women they're trying to impress. And the more she thought of, the more her stomach twisted. Gwen didn't want this to be that. She didn't want _that_ to be Dick Grayson -- it wasn't the Dick Grayson she knew.

Of course, he'd never shown any interest in her before... so the Dick Grayson she knew would have been fine with a fist-bump. Any gift at all was so far out of character that she had no real idea what to expect.

...and thought you might like it...

Don't. Please don't. Take it back. Put it back. Give it to someone else. Donate it to charity. Anything... anything to not ruin _this_ by trying to buy --

Hopefully you didn't rush out and get one...

What?

It's the first flicker of true confusion that cuts through the apprehension. And then she finally focuses on it, recognize it for what it is, just as the explanation hits her.

...I thought you could maybe use that Hyperloop pass.

She should probably close her mouth. It's not _super_ ladylike to leave it hanging open like that, but she's staring at the pass like he's holding a gold bar.

Well, okay, not a gold bar. That's a bad example. She would have been _super_ upset. No, she's staring at the pass like it's the most thoughtful thing she's ever been given, and she has... no idea what to say.

And if one of those good uses is to stop by and visiting me in Gotham from time to time...

Her fridge was all but empty. Her pantry was full of ramen and some soups. She tried not to eat very much just to make sure she could afford rent the next month. MJ brought her pizza and corn dogs the other day, and she devoured them like they were trying to run away from her. Her dad bought her a cheeseburger that almost killed her.

But she was still intending to save up for that pass, because she really _couldn't_ afford to buy a bunch of single-use Hyperloop tickets to Gotham. And, if she wants to see her... friend... in Gotham more than a couple of times a year, that pass is the best way. For her, with no town car to drive her around or natural ability to fly, it's pretty much the _only_ affordable way.

But it did mean she was going to have to wait. That account wasn't going to grow enough for her to afford something like that overnight. Except, now she didn't have to. She didn't have to cut even more corners. She didn't even have to wait.

...by the end of the day.

Her hand closes around that pass, and once more, she's slipping around in front of him, stilling clinging to his hand as she slips her free arm around him to hug him again. She really leeeans into those hugs, her slight build so much sturdier than it seems like it would be.

"Thank you SO much. This is... This is perfect. It's amazing. And... yes. Any time. All the time. I mean.. it's only a few minutes away." Plus travel time to and from the station, but... it is _very_ fast. "_And_ I get you for the rest of the day?"

There's a little laughter in her voice, a little bounce in her step as she settles in to walk with him again. And maybe, at that point, he'll realize that it wasn't just _one_ gift he's giving her, after all.

Dick Grayson has posed:
It is, perhaps, an understandable assumption.

It is the sort of thing that one might expect from someone who had been raised by a billionaire and Gotham's most notorious playboy. Except that, for the most part, that is just a construct. Oh certainly, the money, power and influence is real enough, but the rest is just a persona that Bruce slips in and out of.

Dick Grayson can do much the same when he needs to. Like the rest of his training, Bruce insured that he would have the ability to do that. But unlike his mentor, his surrogate father, he has no desire to live his actual life that way. It might add another layer between himself and his identity as Nightwing, but there are limits to what he is willing to sacrifice. To what he is willing to do to preserve his and the rest of the team's secrets.

Bats might thrive at night. But Robins need the light.

While Gwen might know some of his secrets, might know certain things about him that he could never guess, decisions made all those years ago more or less means that she doesn't truly know him. Not all of him. Putting the breaks on any romantic entanglements insured that they would be friends - even more friendly acquaintances in truth. So she'd have no real way of knowing that so elaborate and ridiculously expensive gift - especially for a woman he thinks he just meant - is most certainly not in the cards.

Even if he were the sort to make that kind of gesture, he is a keen enough student of people to be able to tell pretty quickly that such things wouldn't exactly appeal to her.

While he certainly would like to bring her something that she would like, something that she would get some use out of, it is more a way of showing that he was paying attention during their conversation back in Gotham.

In this case of course, the gift also happens to have the added benefit that it means that there is a distinct possibility that he will get to see her more often, to give them an option of meeting up in Gotham or New York or any of the other locations served by the Hyperloop really.

And that's really appealing right now, even if he's still battling some of his own thoughts on the matter. Weighing whether he is ready to plunge right back into the deepend once more.

As the dark haired man watches her reaction, he might be just a little anxious. That sense of dread that practically radiates from her is not that hard to notice and for just a moment Dick wonders if perhaps he's made a mistake. He doesn't doubt that she likes him, but maybe something more traditional - candy, flowers, a little stuffed bear - might have been better. Or nothing at all. This isn't exactly a 'date'. They have never used those words. Just a chance to meet up again.

But he wants her to know that he was thinking about her, that she has been on his mind since they last parted and in the end that is what seals the deal. So he takes that chance and hands it over.

And is most definitely not disappointed. Those are some pretty good hugs and a smile almost immediately slips over Dick's expression, one of his own arms slipping around her in turn, maybe a little surprised at just how natural it feels. Though after the balcony back in Gotham he probably shouldn't be surprised at that raw chemistry that seems to exist between them.

"I'm glad you like it," he offers up with a sincere smile. "It just seemed... appropriate you know. A way to let you know that I've been thinking about you," he says before clearing his throat.

"And yeah, provided you don't have anything you absolutely have to do, I have the day off. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend it with right now."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
A way to let you know that I've been thinking about you.

Whatever doubts she might have about her own commitment issues, whether or not she should even try to get into another relationship, or honestly if friendship was even something she could manage, the confession that Dick Grayson spent the week thinking about her was enough to bring a sudden rush of pink to her cheeks.

It had been such a passing statement. If anything, she'd said it to let him know that she _wanted_ to spend more time with him, even if it was going to be a while before she could afford to. They say money can't buy happiness, but sometimes the lack of it can keep you from it. She just didn't want to give up on this second chance to get to know Nightwing -- Dick -- without that awkwardness.

Because she didn't know him. Not really. There was that first night they spent _really_ talking... about his parents, about his decision to move to Bludhaven. She got to see a poster of him and his parents when he was young. It had felt... intimate. And she'd just lost everyone... literally everyone she'd ever known. Some more tragically than others. She didn't even have a home, anymore. She'd had no idea where to sleep... how to eat... how to get clothes that weren't her torn up costume. But Dick had taken her in at her lowest point and treated her like she mattered.

...and now, four years later, she's holding his hand and walking through Empire State University. She's a graduate student. She got her dad back... sort of. She has a job. A new Ghost-Spider suit. And there have been a LOT of bumps along the way, but she's back on her feet, thanks in part to his help that first night. And.. he doesn't even know.

Because she's lying to him.

"I've been thinking about you, too," she admits, her voice soft -- hesitant -- but warm, even as she pulls her backpack around with her one free hand and opens it enough to slip the pass inside. There's a glimpse of a couple of books and a white-and-black fabric. Probably an extra jacket, right? Then it's back in place again.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you. I... honestly wasn't expecting anything. I was just glad to see you again. And I'm really glad to have a way to be able to see you more often."

There's a beat, then, as she looks up at him, her eyes glinting with humor.

"Assuming you still want to at the end of the day," she adds, throwing his words back at him with a smirk. But there's some truth to it. If she got up the courage to tell him... there was the chance that this whole thing was over before it even began.

"Oh! As we're leaving campus..." Her eyes shift back towards the street. "...I'm going to apologize in advance for the mess." There are still a lot of buildings along the street that haven't replaced their windows, still taped up and waiting for insurance. "This isn't usually a bad neighborhood, but we had a shooting the other day in the middle of the street.. in the middle of the day. No everyone has had a chance to get things fixed, yet. My dad came and read the landlord the riot act, so I have a new window, at least."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Lies, even by omission, can be tricky things in their world. They tend to be necessary, at least for anyone that has any sort of seperation between their heroic persona and their everyday identity. Some either do not need to worry about that or choose not to worry about that, but for so many of them, allowing the truth to be know about them would come with so many repercussions. Not just for themselves, but for the people they care about.

If people knew that Dick Grayson was Nightwing, he would be subject to police arrest, given that vigilantism is still generally illegal. At least in most places. It would be easy to track him down, to attack him when he isn't in costume. There would be a host of other personal and financial consequences that would make the situation difficult, if not completely untenable.

But most of all it would endnager the people around him. Friends and strangers alike. Those that he knows, that he cares about would become targets. And those that he does not risk becoming collateral damage in any potential scramble to get at him. Neither result is desirable. Neither result is acceptable.

Hence the lie. Of concealing a pretty significant part of one's self from any but the most trusted people. It can be... isolating. Just because you like someone doesn't mean that they are immediately worthy of complete trust, no matter how much you might want to give it.

So yeah, it can take a heck of a toll on relationships. To put it mildly.

Maybe that is why so many of those in their fields tend to gravitate towards those in similar circumstances. To those that they don't have to keep secrets from because they are better able to protect themselves. To those that have some idea about the demands that leading a double life can place on a person. To those that share certain ideals when it comes to defending others. How they prioritize things.

So on the one hand, if anyone can understand about a lack of full discolsure from the get go, it should be Dick Grayson right? He has a lot of experience with that too.

On the other hand, this isn't exactly the same sort of situation. Once, he knew her. Once, they almost walked down this same road years earlier. And the only reason he doesn't know that is that his memory has been taken - or masked. While that might not be her doing per se, it might very well change the equation. Who's to say? Even as a hypothetical Dick probably wouldn't know how he would react until confronted with it.

But none of that is a concern to him right now. RIght now his hand remains warm in her own, returning that smile as she confesses that her mind has maybe been dwelling on him a little too. Despite any other uncertainties, it is hard not to feel good about that and it is something that he freely lets show on his face.

"You're giving me your company," he counters, fingers squeezing around her own. "That's more then enough," he asserts before flashing a quick grin. "Though maybe I'll let you buy me an ice cream later," he adds. Though he is much more likely to insist on treating her.

That amusement lingers as she turns his own words back against him, brow arching and the corners of his mouth twitching at her counter before he dips his head in her direction in apparent concession. "Fair."

At the mention of the mess, of the recent troubles on the street his expression grows serious and he glances around, taking in some of those signs of damage - ones that he likely would have caught straight out if he wasn't quite so preoccupied with her. "Sounds a little alarming. Hopefully no one was hurt," he says quietly. "But definitely not something you need to apologize for."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"You're on."

Gwen smiled. She might not be able to afford a Hyperloop pass without some planning, but ice cream? Ice cream she could spring for. And while it might not be _equal_, it at least gives her a chance to contribute _something_. Even in this short amount of time, it's easy to see how much she values her independence... her ability to do things and provide for herself.

She sort of brushes off the mention of the shooting alarming, though.

"A few people got shot.. taken to the hospital. A lot more had glass cuts and a few people wrecked their cars. So.. they were hurt, but I didn't hear about anyone dying. My dad was here like.. ten minutes after the shooting started because he saw where it was, and ever since the coma..."

She throws out the word coma like she expects him to know what she's talking about, but it's never come up before. It hadn't even come up when they first met because there _was_ no coma, back them. Gwen Stacy was just... dead. It wasn't until after Zee worked her magic that the coma story was invented as a way to smooth things over.

And that's not something she spends a lot of time thinking about with people she's so used to being 'in the know.'

"...he's been _really_ over-protective. Thankfully it was all over by the time he got here, because they were using armor piercing rounds." Beat. "Cop killers."

Which was something she still needed to follow up on.

It was a mob hit, but that car the guy was driving was NOT armored. He was. He was _definitely_ the target... so why was the mob trying to take out The Darkness?

What even _is_ The Darkness? MJ said it was some primordial entity inhabiting another being. So... like Venom? But... different? She knows Venom's an alien. She knows he's a symbiote. But she still doesn't know who's under there.. even though she and Eddie dated. So, that whole lying to protect your identity thing? Turns out, that's really not so new in her life. Even her dating life. And at some point, that was probably going to be something _she_ had to process.

They're coming up to a crosswalk outside of campus, now. Along with a dozen or so others, waiting for the 'Walk' symbol to light up so they can leave campus behind.

Dick Grayson has posed:
It is a reminder. A reminder that while there might be an instant spark between them, one that has proven almost impossible to ignore, there is a whole lot that they just don't know about one another. A whole lot to learn about one another.

Of course that's part of the reason for his visit to New York today. Despite all the little oddities in their meetings so far, Dick wants to learn more about her. Despite that uncertainty about whether he is really ready and iwlling to leave the last several years of his life in the past, one thing he does know is that if he is going to do that, he probably owes it to himself to see if those sparks between them might grow into something more if given the chance.

He doesn't miss much. Which is to be expected really. He's a police officer. He has to be alert to his surrounding and while he mihgt have been a little caught up in her presence, he does start to pay a little more attention to his surroundings and to her at the same time.

MOre then just a police officer though, he has been trained by the World's Greatest Detective. He is more then a good detective himself. Trained in criminology, trained in forensics, trained in the psychology of the criminal mind. It will not be difficult, needless to say, to progress his career if that is what he wants to do.

But the very first thing he picks up on is that one word. Coma. That's pretty significant. And when he mentions her father being pretty overprotective because of it any doubts that she is referring to something that happened to her are pretty much banished. "Sounds pretty serious," he says quietly, unable to help but turn that gaze her way once more, to look her over. Maybe looking for some sign of what could have happened, maybe just reassuring himself that she's fine now. Either way.

Of course, it sounds like concern for one another is pretty much inherent in their father-daughter relationship. He is, of course, familiar with cop killers, but in his costumed identity and as a member of the GCPD. "Does it bother you? That your father is a police officer?" he asks quietly. Both out of curiousity and the fact that it is at least passingly relevant to them too. It's something that is only fair to consider both for reasons she knows - she seems to be aware of his job - and for the reasons he thinks that she doesn't but she actually does - he's a costumed vigilante.

Then of course there is the scene itself, and he does take it in with interest. Perhaps one that he too will have to investigate further now that he has an increasingly personal stake in it all.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Sounds pretty serious.

"Mostly for everyone else. For me it's... like it never happened."

That's relatable, right? That when you slip into a coma, you don't really _know_ you slipped into a coma or how much time has passed while you were in it? That it's everyone else that's left to worry while you're lying there, hooked up to machines...

Or they would have been, if she had ever actually been in a coma. That also makes it... less of a lie, right?

She did have to suffer the after-effects, though. She had to face Peter coming to her and asking her why she was 'suddenly' with Zee because he didn't remember Gwen dying... until she told him, and all of the memories... came back.

Is that what's going to happen to Dick? When she tells him -- because she has to tell him at some point -- does everything just... snap back into place the way it was? Is it less about his reaction and more about his memories all coming back? All the reasons he had to not be interested in the first place?

And why did that bother her so much? If she really just wanted her friend back, shouldn't she be glad to have him back the way he was? Shouldn't she be fine not holding his hand? ...Not kissing him?

"It's... all I've ever known," she answers without really giving a clear yes or no. But, there isn't really a clear yes or no. It didn't bother her, usually. It bothered her a LOT when she knew he was driving towards assault rifles filled with AP rounds as fast as he could. "For him, it's about responsibility. Because, if he doesn't wear the badge, someone else will have to."

There's a pause, then, as they walk along. She's seen this street, even the damage, a hundred times already. It holds no interest for her. So, she keeps her attention on the people around them and looking up at the man beside her.

"I didn't _really_ understand it until I was a teenager..."

When she was bitten by that spider, at fourteen years old, and took on the mantle of Spider-Woman. Just not... here.

"But I can't imagine him doing anything else. It's who he is. And it's shaped a lot of my views on responsibility and helping people."

Tip-toe... through the landmines...

"I worry about him. But, he's a good cop, and he does things by the book. I just... I kinda wish he'd listen to less of J. Jonah Jameson and understand that... part of the reason the cops didn't have to have a gunfight in the middle of the street was because Ghost-Spider showed up."

Dick Grayson has posed:
For the most part he has been pretty lucky. He has never suffered a truly major injury either as a cop or as Nightwing. There have been a host of cuts and bruises of ocurse. He has been knicked by knives and bullets alike, though for the most part his acrobatic abilities and unique fighting style keeps foes off balance enough that he hasn't taken worse. Sprains, strains and the odd tear of course and the occasional broken bone.

The list is substantial really, though lacking those clearly harrowing injuries and not necessarily as deep as it could be either given just how long he has been doing the vigilante thing. There aren't many that start as young as him afterall.

Still, he has never has to suffer through a coma, never spent days, or weeks laying in the hospital bed, unresponsive and unaware. On rare occasions he has had to sit at the bedside of someone he cares about, but rarely for a prolonged period, wondering if they will ever wake up again.

Looking at her, it would seem that she has come through it all none the worse for wear which is reassuring. The idea of having to sit at her bedside, holding her hand with her not even aware of his presence gives him a surprising pang that can't be entirely suppressed before it flashes across his expression. "You have a point," he agrees quietly. "I'm just glad you came through it all okay," he admits, giving her hands a squeeze before finally starting to cross the street - still hand in hand - as the light changes.

He lists as she talks about some of her experiences, some of her feelings with the cop life that her father has chosen to embrace. Her nervousness when she knows that he is driving into danger. That sense of responsibility that drives it all. Certainly it is something that Dick can relate to. In many ways he has chosen to pursue the life as a costumed vigilante, pursue a life as a vigilante for much the same reasons.

It also suggests that she understands the reasons why he would do something similar. That she might at least be able to accept a police officer as a relationship partner. Maybe she would even get the whole vigilante thing. And again, Dick Grayson feels a surge of relief. That if she answered any other way, he would have to stop and think whether - not only if he is ready for this - if it would be fair to bring her anywhere close to this lifestyle. She's a scientist. She already has to worry about her father. Is it fair to ask her to take anything more on.

Nodding to her comments, about coming to understand, a lot of his own concerns are clearly put to ease as well.

"I can understand that," he agrees with the last. "In Gotham we kind of deny that the Batman, his allies even exist. Certainly that we have any association with them, despite what the big spotlight on the roof of police headquarters might suggest," he says, lips curving wryly for a moment. "Sometimes it takes something first hand, but I believe he'll figure it out. He'll see that that in this case the media doesn't know what it's talking about," he says confidently.

Entirely unaware of the personal stakes in all of that for her.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"Thanks."

Gwen had watched that pang cross his features, returned the little squeeze he gave her hand, and then started feeling twice as shitty. She knows she's not going to be able to keep this up... there's so much she wants to talk to him about, to _actually_ tell him about herself, but she can't.

She also can't keep talking circles around everything, lying to him through omission or not. It's fine when it's any random person on the street. It's not so great when it's her dad, but she actually knows how that story plays out because she's lived it once.

Just like she's lived this story before...

For a few seconds, her eyes close. She keeps walking, never missing a step, but it's like she has to shut everything out for just a little bit... like she needs to get control of the panic that was rising up through her chest.

She's tired. She ran out on Wally (and, to a lesser extent, Eddie) at 3AM because she freaked out. Hell, there are arguments to be made that she wasn't dating Eddie anymore because she freaked out.

Part of her wants to run. To keep running. To run away from... everything.

She knows what will happen as soon as she tells him, and her fingers curl a little harder around his. She's gotten so used to living a life in a dimension that's not hers with friends that aren't hers and parents that aren't hers.

This Dick Grayson isn't hers, either. Not after what that spell did to him. And there's only one way to fix that.

He'll see that that in this case the media doesn't know what it's talking about.

"Don't be so sure."

It's said in that flippant, defeatist tone she sometimes gets, like it's killing her not to roll her eyes at the same time. And maybe she does... a little.

After he found out, she'd been all but estranged from her father in her home dimension. Then Peter died and... well, he was there. It wasn't his bullet that sent her here, but it wasn't like he was jumping in front of them, either.

Of course, it all happened so fast. One second she's holding Peter in her arms. The next she's running for her life.

"So, do you want to see my place before we go get ice cream? It's... right around the corner."

Why does it sound more dire now than it did last time she offered?

Deep breaths, Gwen.

"Oh! And I... was going to tell you... I met Wally, the other day. Red hair? Says he's your best friend? Sat down with like three hundred cheeseburgers but he somehow weighs less than I do?"

Probably not, but it paints a pretty clear visual.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Of course he is not deliberately trying to make all of this a little more difficult for her. He is not even aware that there is anything to make difficult truth be told, though obviously there have been enough little clues for him to probably realize that there is something that she's keeping back from him. Again, he is a pretty talented detective.

He is also determined to do this right and so far has managed to do that for the most part. Which means no tilizing all the advantages that Nightwing has to go snooping into her life, to find out more about her then she might be willing to come.

It would be hard to justify, at the moment if he's honest. Unlikely as it might be, this doesn't necessarily have to be a date. Sure, he's wandering around a completely different city, hand in hand with her. But there could be any kind of justification for that, right? Suuuuuuure.

He has weighed the possibility that he is deliberately avoiding that sense that something isn't quite right. That he doesn't want to know it would be the kind of thing that he just couldn't ignore. Weighed it and ultimately dismissed it. He is still a pretty good judge of people, no matter what the case might be. And he is fairly certain, convinced even, that she is worth a measure of trust.

He has learned that sometimes you have to trust your instincts. And like so much else about him, his instincts seem to be very much in favor of Gwen Stacy.

So his fingers tighten around her own and only the fact that New York sidewalks are busy enough at this hour of the day that stop short, pulling her close seems like a bad idea, a way to get plenty of dark stares from the people close by keeps him from drawing her in for another hug.

Which also tells him something. He wants to be able to make things better forh er. Already, when she finds herself out of sorts as she quite clearly is, he wants to make it better.

"I don't know him," he agrees quietly, managing to walk along with that instinctive grace he carries himself with, even with his eyes locked on hers. "But he does seem to have raised a pretty great daughter. I don't know that you can do that without at least being open to the idea of changing your views and approach when you don't have any other choice," he says quietly, lips quirking upwards once more.

He might be an optomist though. Maybe some of that belief is shaped by the fact that there are few things he would like more then the chance to see his parents again. To hold them. To hear their voices.

He is a little more sentimental then the Dark Knight. Most of the time he makes that a strength. One more thing that he can call upon.

Her question makes Dick smile once more, a small shrug rippling across his shoulders. "Hey, this is the Gwen Stacy tour. If you think the best place to stop next is your apartment, who am I to disagree?" he asks, trying to force a little levity back into his voice, to lighten the mood at least a little.

Then he laughs and shakes his head at the strange seeming coincidence. "Wally West?" he asks increedulously. "That certainly sounds like him. Wow, that's a pretty big coincidence," he admits with a grin. "We've known each other for quite a few years, though how well we get along might depend on whether he did anything to make you question my taste in friends," he teases lightly.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
There's always a choice -- to change your views, to not change your views. To accept your only daughter or to reject her, to threaten to arrest her while she cries and begs for you to just... please listen.

To tell your friend that something's happened to his memory and it might be your fault. Or to pretend it's all okay and let him kiss you, let him come all the way from Gotham to New York to see you.

Life is full of choices.

But there is one thing that Gwen seems to seize on in that statement, that brings her eyes up to him with a quiet little smile of appreciation: He does seem to have raised a pretty great daughter.

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to. The gratitude is all there in her eyes for those few heartbeats until she looks back to the sidewalk again.

And yes... levity. His laughter seems to help ease at least a little of the tension. There's still _something_ hanging over her like a dark cloud, but Gwen has an unfortunate habit of feeling absolutely alone... even when she's walking hand-in-hand with arguably one of the most attractive men she's ever met. (Not the reason, just an observation.)

"Oh, I'm in charge?" she laughs, her eyes twinkling again when she looks up at him. "That's a scary thought. You're going to want to keep your arms and legs in the vehicle for the duration of the ride."

Then there's another, pleased little laugh.

"I was just sitting at Big Belly Burger, and... I guess there weren't any other seats? So he asked if he could sit with me, and we started talking. _Your_ name came up. And it wasn't even me, I swear. Of his own free will, he volunteered that he was your best friend. He _did_ give me the Heimlich to keep me from choking to death, though, so.. I'll put that in the win column."

There's a little shrug, then.

"He slipped me his number without me even realizing it. I found it later. And I invited him to coffee... just as friends," she hastens to pointedly add. For 'no' reason, right? "Or so I thought. I... don't think I did a very good job of making that clear. A _lot_ of things sort of.. went wrong at once, and I kind of... panicked?"

She cringes.

"So, if you talk to him and he tells you about this actual crazy person he met that bolted on him... that's me. I still need to call him and apologize."

Sigh.

"This is me..."

She points up at the apartment building as they're walking up to it, and it's a short ride up the elevator inside before she's unlocking her own door and letting him inside her small, one-bedroom apartment.

There's sure to be a LOT for him to notice in there. Not the least of which are the bits of electronics she has partially disassembled on the cheap coffee table. At least one of which is a web shooter..

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Apartment DESC:

Gwen's apartment is on the top floor. It isn't really large at all, because try living in New York when you are a student with a cop for a father.

The place is a one bedroom apartment, with the living room and kitchenette making up the majority of the space. It's only about fifteen feet from the kitchenette's wall to the window, but the place feels more 'cozy' then it does 'cramped'. The apartment has wood flooring and pale blue walls with white trim.

The window looks out on the Village, and has a fire escape that leads right up to the lovely roof garden, which is also reachable from the main hallway stairwell (As there is no elevator in the place). The apartment has an old looking couch that is quite comfortable, in front of a small table and a rather old-looking tv. Scattered about the table are electronic pieces, some projects she is working on and others she discarded and put in that 'I will get back to that eventually'. But clearly this is someone who likes to tinker and explore as here and there some of electronics projects can be seen.

The kitchenette is decent and equipped with most normal tools, though the fridge is fairly empty. The bedroom has clothing scattered about a queen sized bed that is rarely made. There are a lot of plants and similar greenery, most near the window that overlooks the Village, giving the place a nice, airy and lively feeling.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Fathers anbd daughters.

That isn't the sort of bond that Dick Grayson would care to bet against if it was him. But in all fariness he hasn't been through the kind of things that Gwen has been through. He never had to see his parents reject who he was. Never had them turn their back on him. He is fairly certain that they wouldn't, even if he had somehow followed this same path had they lived. But he will never know for sure.

And maybe Gwen doesn't know for absolute certainty that her father rejected her at the very last. Maybe he couldn't have stopped the authorities from opening fire on her, from causing the situation that sent her into another reality altogether. Maybe he blames himself even now, somewhere out there.

But that's the thing. She's never know either. She'll always have to wonder and what evidence she did have did sort of suggest that some bonds can be broken.

Even father-daughter ones.

It's not the sort of thing that one should have to carry alone. But at the same time probably is exactly the sort of thing that would make once more inclined to carry things on their own. To not risk the hurt, not risk the rejection again.

Some of that bubbles up. Some of that carries through that snarky facade. It makes him want to find a way to reassure her, and he doesn't even completely understand about what. Not yet at any rate.

Still, she seems to be willing to let him lighten the mood a little at least. To not let the day, their first chance to see one another in a week get completely submerged in all the heavy subtext that is going on. To not let the chance to just enjoy one anothers company get lost in the questions they each might have playing through their minds. Decisions that they still might have to make.

"Look, while I feel like I've known you for awhile, I don't think I'm quite ready to be put in charge of the tour of you," Dick admits wryly, not intending to but perhaps coming unintentionally close to hitting a nerve. "Still, I gotta warn you. I can be a bit of a rebel sometimes," he says airily. "I don't at all promise to do as I'm told. There is every possibility that limbs might go where they're not supposed to," he cautions, an amused glint in his eye.

He listens to her experiences with his old friend, to what appears to be an unintentionally harrowing outting if it involed choking serious enough to require the heimlich, to potential misunderstandings and embarassment, and the look on the dark haired man's features is both amused and sympathetic at the same time. "It sounds like you've had a bit of a time of it Gwen," he says with a smile. "I mean, it's been awhile since I've been out on a date... or even a not-date... but that sounds kinda like I would expect it to go," he agrees. "Chances are he'll understand too. And if not I don't mind straightening him out," he teases lightly, before following her into that apartment building.

Admittedly they live pretty different lives. Her apartment might be a far crey from Wayne Manor, even a far cry from the Lakehouse that he has called home on the grounds of the Wayne Estate as of late. But that isn't what he was born to. Accomodations in Haley's circus growing up were considerably less... lavish. Being adopted by Bruce Wayne might have changed his life, changed his circumstances, but it hasn't made him forget.

Besides, the place seems to kinda... fit her somehow. Glancing around he notes the comfortable clutter, the textbooks that say as much as anything that someone is still a student. And he notes that smattering of electronics spread out on the table, shooting an amused glance her way. "Biochemistry and electronics, Miss Stacy. Tell me, is there anything you can't do?" Dick asks archly.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
It sounds like you've had a bit of a time of it Gwen...

"Oh, it's... fine. I've had worse." Is that supposed to be... optimistic? Cheerful, even? It _sounds_ like it is. It's even carried on a soft, awkward, not-a-real-laugh like it's meant to be funny. In a... dark sort of way.

"Honestly, it's fine. I'll apologize, but if he never wants to talk to me again, having his hot friend telling him how great I am probably isn't going to make it a whole lot better..."

That smile thins. That's obviously supposed to be another joke. At least... sort of. But also it's definitely not a joke. At the same time.

Look, while I feel like I've known you for awhile...

Oh, God. Yeah. He has. And while it wasn't _well_, it was long enough to get her inducted as a prospect in the Titans... enough to be able to trust each other with some stories and with some of their deepest secrets. Things her father didn't even know about her.

There is every possibility that limbs might go where they're not supposed to.

"Well, I... haven't hated that so far."

That awkwardness seems to come and go. There are moments when she seems to be able to absolutely lose herself in their conversation, in him. And then there are these moments where she seems hyper-aware of everything, including everything that has happened and everything that might happen.

Tell me, is there anything you can't do?

"Maintain healthy relationships?"

The words are spilling out of her mouth before she even has a chance to think about them, and they're followed by another string of nervous laughter. Great, Gwen. You're really leaning into the whole messy psycho vibe...

But really, there was one, driving catalyst. One thing that kept bubbling up. One thing she needed to tell him before any more time passed, and it was making her a _little_ crazy.

She left him at the door to rush forward, to pick up a basket and start shoveling half-finished electronics projects into it so that it looks... well... 'clean' would be a stretch. It looks a little like a barber took a pair of clippers and cut a single path of hair down the middle of someone's head. There is now 'a' tidy space.

She ends up having to pull a couple of things off of the couch cushions, too, and then throws a sweater she'd draped over the armrest over the basket as a finishing touch, setting it aside.

"Sorry.. I really should have planned better. Can you..."

With the basket placed on the floor by the couch, she slips down on a cushion and then pats the one next to her a couple of times, her back _so_ straight. Even sitting there like that, it's hard not to remember that she's a trained dancer. That is, if he remembered anything about her.

"...can you come sit? Please? I... I have something I need to say. And... I need you to be sitting."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Try as he might, it doesn't seem like Dick is going to be quite able to set her at ease.

He's not quite sure what's off. She seemed to appreciate the gift pf the pass - in the end - and while a little flustered over encountering his friend of all people, doesn't seem to hold that against him.

But something is clear off. Something is clearly bothering her. And it is very hard to suppress that instinct to get to the bottom of things. Very hard not to try and push her gently towards sharing whatever it is.

It's a fine line afterall. He is here in New York for the chance to get to know her better. And while this nervous energy might be a part of her, Dick gets the distinct impression that it is just a small part of the whole. He wants the larger picture.

"I doubt it will come to that," he offers up quietly, that easy smile resting on his features. "But I'll stay out of it and let you sort it out when your ready," he assures her, raising a hand and folding it over his heart with a little smile. "No singing your praises or telling him how awesome you are, promise," he says, doing his best to both sound earnest and not taking the matter too, too seriously.

That she would attract attention from others is no surprise. That it would be someone he knows, a friend might make it a touch more awkward admittedly. But these things happen.

That she would rush ahead, that she would hurry to straighten up the place, to scoop up some of those bits of electronics, half assembled still is no real surprise. In similar circumstances Dick would almost certainly have done the same in truth, hurrying to straighten things up, maybe mentally cursing that he didn't think to do that -before- he invivted someone over to his place. He can definitely relate.

Though he does remain just a little curious about those designs. He's never seen anything quite like them. He's no mechanical genius or anything, but again, his training with Batman has been rather... broad and far ranging. Given their reliance on a variety of gadgets, including some that they need to make themselves to avoid notice, he is passingly familiar with this sort of thing. Couple that with a finely honed curiousity and yeah, he's going to take note.

So he casually walks about the cozy space, pausing in the middle of the main area, turning around slowly, taking it in while also giving her a couple of moments to straighten up while not under his direct scrutiny. Even her instinctive reply to his compliment only brings a brief smile to his lips. And while he has his doubts still, while he still wanders about his own emotional state, his own answer is just as instinctive, slipping from him before he can even think about it. "Well maybe we'll have to see what we can do to change that."

He avoids freezing, avoids walking that back. Again, he's learn to trust his instincts and his instincts have brought him here. With her. And even as her own nervousness seems to build, even as she asks him to sit down - which is so rarely a good sign - those instincts tell him he is exactly where he should be. Where he needs to be.

So he only offers a slow nod before stepping over to sink down onto the edge of that comfortable looking couch, brow furrowed and gaze still levelly upon her. "I take it that you have something on your mind?"

That seemed kinda obvious.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Well maybe we'll have to see what we can do to change that.

"I hope so."

That whole volley back and forth is absolutely without hesitation, and it is possibly the truest, least guarded exchange the two of them have yet had. No thought. No filters. No walls. Just blunt honesty on both sides.

I take it that you have something on your mind?

"Yeah."

She's still fidgeting, even as he's settling down, leveling that perfect face at her, those eyes... just waiting for her to... to wrecking ball this whole thing.

"Is it.. hot in here?"

There's nervous laughter, even as she's taking off the heavily cardigan she was swimming in, leaving her in the long-sleeved shirt underneath... which she tugs the wrists of down around her palms self-consciously to cover just the faintest, briefest glint of metal. Bracelets?

"Um. Okay."

Her eyes lift to Dick's more fully and she takes a deep breath.

"I'm not sure how long this is going to take to work. Or.. if it's going to work the way I think it will. I... don't really have anyone to ask, anymore. So, I'm just... winging it..."

Yeah, she's stalling, still. She's about to crawl out of her skin.

"Four years ago, you and I first met here in New York, when I was dropped out of a portal from another dimension. I was... beat up pretty badly. And you took me in. Gave me a place to sleep. Some clean clothes..."

Deep breath.

"But when we first met... I didn't know you as Dick Grayson. That didn't come until later. I met you as Nightwing. And you... you met me as Spider-Woman."

She can hardly heard her own voice over the pounding of her heart.

Dick Grayson has posed:
He's not entirely sure what to expect.

Which might be fair, because watching Gwen try to compose herself, to try and figure out just what it is that she wants to tell him, how she wants to tell him, it is not entirely certain that she herself knows just what she wants to say.

While that would be enough to make anyone at least a little anxious about just what it is that has her so bothered, just what it is that she thinks he needs to sit down to hear it, there is that instinctive, perfectly natural and unfiltered response to his own. Whatever it is doesn't seem to be about them - about that spark of attraction that they share. Whatever else might be true, there is that.

Still, Dick can't help but steel himself just a little bit. To prepare himself for the worst, whatever it is that she intends to share. Does he notice that brief flash of metal at her wrists as she tugs that sweater free? Maybe. Not much slips past him. But clearly it doesn't register as important. Not in comparison to whatever is on her mind.

Maybe in the grand scheme of things it isn't either.

He doesn't rush her, doesn't try to move her along. He's had a few conversations like this over the years and he knows that it isn't easy. So he just offers a brief smile at her verbal gambits and while he's not sure if it will help, not sure even if it's entirely welcome under the circumstances, he leans forward in his seat a little and reaches out to take her hand in his own.

A small gesture perhaps, but one meant to reassure. The both of them really.

Whether it helps or not might be up for debate. But either way, Gwen seems to find what she needs to proceed, to sure just what it is that has been troubling her. And what has been troubling her seems... unbeliablable.

He listens without interrupting her as she tells him that they have already met, years ago. That she dropped out of portal from another reality. That he helped her. It seems ridiculous.

But she mentions that he is Nightwing which shakes that immediate and instinctive resolve to question her. Mentions that she called herself Spider-Woman. Even with that there is a moment when he wants to call her out, to ask her how she really knows who he is? Ask her if this is supposed to be some kind of joke?

For a moment he can't see how it can be anything but.

But then it's like walls start to come down. Like a mask or veil falling away and for a moment he gets a flicker in his head, an image, like a memory recalled from some incidental thing someone has said. A hint. A reminder. And he can see her, clear as day. Hurt, battered, injured. And so terribly alone.

For a moment he can't help but wonder if his mind is playing tricks on him, if it is constructing a picture to make sense of what she's saying. But more memories of her start to come flooding back in and it gets harder and harder to write it all off.

Fingers still wrapped around hers, he squeezes, gently at first and then harder without really realizing it at all.

For a few seconds - or is it minutes? - he just sits there staring at her before forcing his grip to lighten, to not squeeze her hand quite so tight. Then a shadow passes over his eyes as they search her own. "Gwen," he says softly. "How could I have forgotten you?"

Gwen Stacy has posed:
It's not easy to push through, watching his expressions shift. The incredulity. The doubt.

Gwen was expecting it all, of course. In fact, she was prepared for a lot worse the moment she said the word 'Nightwing.' That identity wasn't something that everyone knew. She wasn't even sure if most of the Titans knew. But Gwen had been friends with Stephanie Brown, too, which added several more layers of complexity onto the whole thing.

But that wasn't what was important in those first few moments. The most important thing, at least in Gwen's mind, was what happened when that 'spell' or whatever it was... broke. The only other time that letting someone in on her secret was this dramatic was Peter Parker, who remembered her as _his_ Gwen Stacy... and that hadn't been an easy conversation, either, for a whole host of other reasons.

But nothing bad had happened to him when he remembered. But... it hadn't been four years later, either. What she didn't want to happen was the magic somehow rebound and it undo something _else_ in the process. She didn't have Zee to 'fix' anything, anymore.

So all of her focus was on Dick. Watching his reaction. Making sure that she tried to keep her voice gentle enough that it minimized as much of the 'danger' (if there was any) as possible? Or, at least, provided some measure of comfort in a situation that was... not very comfortable, no matter the outcome.

Dick could squeeze her hand as hard as he wanted. She was used to being thrown into (and sometimes through) concrete walls. She could take a man she cared about wanting to feel a connection -- an anchor. And so, while she squeezes his hand back, she's careful. She's here, but she won't hurt him, and once she's finished, she won't speak until he does.

How could I have forgotten you?

"I made you forget," she answers, looking back into his eyes and taking the full brunt of the responsibility onto herself. There was nuance, and she would get to that. But he needed to hear those words, first. The decision to do it was hers.

"The other Gwen Stacy... the one from this dimension... died before I got here. And a... friend..." She's picking her words carefully. This is _not_ a rehearsed speech. "...she cast a spell for me, so that everyone would forget. Or, something. I honestly don't fully understand it. But, nobody remembers that version of Gwen dying, anymore... only the people I've told. And I didn't realize that you had gotten caught up in the spell because... you were the first one to find me. You knew, already. But then you caught me at that fundraiser, and I guess..."

For a moment, she's quiet, her lips moving as she looks down to their joined hands.

"I panicked. I... I couldn't tell you I know you're Nightwing in the middle of a crowd. And then.. we got to the balcony... and..."

Well, the rest is pretty obvious. She could have. She just... didn't. Mostly because she was enjoying the moment. The look in his eyes. The closeness. The kiss.

"You should know that you are under no obligation to follow through with joining me for ice cream," she says, looking back up and pushing a smile into her lips. "I completely get it if you... need some time."

One last pause.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Memory is a funny thing.

While he has some idea of how the mind works - as much as any lay person can - what he doesn't really know is how magic would interact with it. Just how any sort of spell would deal with memories, let alone the memories of any of the people that had dealt with this Gwen, or those who were aware that the original Gwen Stacy of this world had in fact died.

In the end Dick doesn't know whether the memories of her, of their first meeting, of the path not taken and their casual association there after are ones that are being restored, like holes in his mind being plugged. Or if they were always there but the veil that was keeping him from remembering them is simply being lifted.

In some ways it doesn't matter.

What matters is that Gwen is not a stranger afterall. There were always, obvious reasons to be drawn to her, but certainly the fact that he was so strongly suggests that the effect was more like a veil, concealing away his memories but leaving them intact, the essence of them still very much there just not... accessible. Until he saw her again. And some part of him remembered just enough.

For a moment he can only watch her, eyes fixed on her own as he tries to process those memories. Sifting through them.

As that moment stretches out it becomes more about trying to sort out the aftermath. It takes a few seconds to register her words, to realize that she is claiming responsibility for making him forget about her. His brow furrows at that, though he still seems a little too stunned to register exactly what that entails, to register just how he should feel about all of that.

There is that instinctive desire to be furious. To be furious with her. To feel violated at having his memories stolen. That is dampened down only by the confusing onset of that emotional toil, trying to match up what he remembers now about their meeting four years ago with what he has felt for the past week since meeting her. Again. Not for the first time as he thought.

The dark haired man is able to focus a little more as she continues. The hows and whys of what happened taking shape, becoming clearer. Not something she did then. Magic done on her behalf. Does that change things fundamentally? That someone else did it? In the moment he is genuinely not sure.

While there might be a whole host of things to work through, one thing that doesn't change is that he does not instinctively recoil from her. Whatever he is feeling there is no outburst of anger in his voice or eyes. And he doesn't let go of her hand, still clinging to it throughout.

It's hard. Hard to figure out what he's feeling. Hard to figure out what he should be feeling. It is not exactly the sort of thing that one can easily reference, to tie to past experiences. It's not the sort of thing that one can point to someone else going through the same thing and judging and weighing their reaction to it all.

So as those seconds pass, as she explains her reactions, how she panicked, how the time didn't seem right to reveal the truth when she realized what was going on, as she apologizes, Dick tries a different tact. He tries to put himself in her shoes. Of being lost in a new reality where she was functionally dead. To be faced with the likelihood of never going back to the home she new - which wasn't exactly a great situation for her any longer regardless. And then someone she cared about offered to just... fix it for her.

Would he have turned that down? Would he have thought to make a list of all the people he didn't want effected? Would he have tracked down each and every person that should have known. Would he have even made the list? They could have been important to each other, but he's the one who decided to turn aside from that.

So with a shuddering sigh, Dick's fingers squeeze around hers once more and he pulls her just a little closer. "I get it Gwen. It's just... a lot to take in."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
It has to be hard for Dick, because it's hard for Gwen to watch him. It's hard to see all of those emotions flash across his face as she's explaining it all... anger and betrayal flickering to something like confusion.

But she tells the whole story. At least... as well as she can. There is still a lot she doesn't fully understand herself. But, there was a lot she _did_ understand in the last week or so. And it was in that week that her actions -- and her motives -- might be most easily questioned.

She didn't tell him on the balcony because she panicked. But they'd been texting all week. Couldn't she say something to him then, once she'd had time to think about it? Well, she could argue that she didn't know how secure the phones where, but that might just be a convenient excuse. The fact of the matter was that she was enjoying the conversations, and she fully expected them to come to a stop as soon as she decided to have... this exact moment.

It had been close to four years since she'd spoken to him at any length. Maybe they'd seen each other at a party, a polite greeting exchanged in a sea of people, but not enough of an interaction for either one of them to realize that Dick had no idea who she was. So what was there to make her think it wouldn't just go back to that?

Nothing.

Except a brand new Hyperloop pass in her bag.

And a string of text messages on her phone.

And the fact that Dick wasn't just still holding her hand... he actually tugged her a little closer.

That tug initiates a whole series of little shifts, of Gwen scooting closer as if bidden by that invitation to not only stretch her hand a little farther, but to move her whole body until her knee is touching is... until she can feel the heat radiating from him.

She's looking up into his eyes, a few blonde longs hanging in front of one blue eye. On the other side, there's the glint of that eyebrow piercing, and as she draws in a breath, she squeezes his hand again.

"I know. And I mean it -- you don't.. have to do ice cream. You don't have to stay. Trust me, you would not be the first person to -- " She clears her throat. " -- to freak out. You should have seen my dad's reaction to me being Spider-Woman. My _other_ dad... before... everything."

She tries not to call him her 'real' dad. It... sort of takes something away from what she's built with this version of him.

There's a hopeful little curl of her lips.

"At least you're not trying to arrest me?"

It's not the same. She's not just revealing a big secret to him. She's telling him that something she did -- or, at least, that she was the cause of -- stole a part of him, and he didn't even know. And that understanding is there in her eyes. In the sympathy. In the apology. In the anticipation of him getting up and walking out that she's trying to steel herself for.

Dick Grayson has posed:
As he starts to come to terms with the entire thing, as he starts to properly integrate that sudden return of memories so it all feels a little more natural and a little less overwhelming it becomes a little easier to pay attention to the blonde woman who's hand he is still very much holding. A little easier to note dwell on what's racing through his mind, but all the little clues in her voice, in her expression that give away how she's feeling too.

There is that instinctive desire to try to assure her that it will all be alright. Even now he can feel that urge. That alone tells him something. That alone lets him know that regardless of anything else he might be feeling, those building emotions that he has developed for her over the past week have not simply been wiped away by the return of his memories. That if he is feeling at all resentful over the delay in letting him know the truth, or the fact that his memories were played with - however unintentional - that doesn't seem to be enough to wipe out all traces of the concern that he has for her.

If he wanted some sort of evidence that the whole thing aas more then mere loneliness after his breakup, well, that's a pretty good indication there.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Of course she could have let him know about all of this sooner. She could have fessed up at the party as soon as it became obvious that he really didn't recognize her. She could have done it in any of the texts they have been exchanging for the past week. Could have done it as soon as he showed up on the grounds of Empire State University.

Should she have?

That's a harder one, but given their rather unique natures, given that the one thing that could lend some credance to her story was the fact that she knows he is in fact Nightwing is not the sort of thing that should casually be tossed around in public. Or in a text chain on unsecured devices. It might be an excuse, but the reality of the situation is its a good one.

And there is her identity to consider too. It's not just what is best for him in all of this.

None of that erases the shock of course. None of that eliminates the knowledge that he has been missing little pieces of his life for the past four years, even if it was only in direct relation to her as far as he can tell. But it does mitigate it. A lot.

He knows her - better then he thought admittedly - but even going just from what he has gleaned in the past few days, nothing about her suggests that any of this was malicious. He was unfortunate enough to be caught up in something that - in Dick's mind - just about anyone in her circumstances would have agreed to. A chance for a do over of a sort. A chance to build a relationship back up with a father that had been taken away by her confession.

While there might have been a delay in her telling him, realistically this was the first, safest time to do so. She didn't draw things out, she didn't wait for things to get more serious between them.

So he squeezes her hand and as she makes her attempt to lighten the mood a little, he offers his own tentative smile. "I don't have jurisdiciton in New York. And I don't know what the charge would be anyway," he admits. "Being less than perfect? Being human?" he says gently.

He can't quite help himself but to lean forward a ltitle, that free hand coming up to stroke back a few of those stray strands from her forehead. "It's a lot to take in. I'm not going to lie to you. But I don't blame you or hold it against you or anything like that. I appreciate that you told me as soon as you realistically could," he says quietly.

Then he lifts their entwined hands, eyes still on hers as he presses his lips to the back of hers briefly. "It doesn't... change the way I feel. I guess we have a little more history then I thought. But it also makes some things easier too. I don't have to try and hide a part of myself from you. That's always preferable," he admits.

"So I guess, what I'm saying is, that if you're still up for it, I wouldn't

Dick Grayson has posed:
"So I guess, what I'm saying is, that if you're still up for it, I wouldn't mind getting an ice cream with you."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
I don't have jurisdiction in New York...

"Ooohhh," Gwen laughs mirthlessly, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as if to say, _right, that's why_. But it's that off-handed joke that seems to sting _just_ a little...

Being less than perfect?

Oh, she deserved it. There were so many things she regretted. So many mistakes she made. There was no part of her that actually believed she was. There was so much loss that was... maybe her fault, even if she didn't want to believe that. For just a moment, the image of holding Peter in her arms flickered to life in her mind, and the brief stab showed in her eyes.

But she doesn't dwell on that. Her small, hopeful smile shifts lopsidedly for a moment. Right up until his hand reaches up and brushes at her hair. Then she dips her head in that direction, brushing her temple against his fingers as she searches his eyes.

I appreciate that you told me as soon as you realistically could.

She nods faintly, apparently grateful for his understanding... grateful he doesn't outright hate her. But then he's lifting their hands together, pressing hers to his lips, and color blossoms in the backs of her cheeks.

It doesn't change the way he feels...

There's awe in her eyes, a stirring of raw hope somewhere deep down inside, and then...

...she kisses him.

It's a sort of abrupt thing, like she was worried that if she gave it any amount of thought at all she would chicken out -- and in fairness, she probably would. And while it does linger (or at least, that's the goal) for several seconds, it isn't as if she's crawling into his lap. She's stretched through her toes, reached her free hand up to his cheek, and she was on him with the same sort of 'snap' forward as a wolf spider seizing her prey.

But then she's leaning back again, trying (and mostly failing) to look like it was no big deal.

"I'd really like some ice cream. And it's _definitely_ my treat."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Is it all alright?

That might be stretching things just a bit. For the moment all Dick Grayson has to go on is his gut feeling, his instinctive reactions. HIs training, his experience have certainly prepared him for a great many things that he has had to confront in his life, but admittedly dealing with the fact that there were holes in his memory because of magic were not amongst them. But he has always been a little more comfortable going on 'feel' then some of his fellow Bats. Logic is all well and good but it isn't necessarily the be all and end all. It rarely takes into account human emotion.

What he knows instinctively is that none of this was done maliciously so while he might have concerns with the fact that he got caught up in something never aimmed at him, it's hard to hold Gwen directly responsible for that. It is even hard to hold her friend responsible for that, though as the one with the power that is less clear cut.

He is also quite certain that regardless of decisions made four years ago, he is not the same person that he was then. It is highly unlikely that Gwen is the same person she was then. This sudden revelation doesn't really change anything that has happened in the past week, doesn't really change his reaction towards her, that desire to get to know her better.

Does it work out this time? Who knows? But it feels like it is worth the plunge to him.

The relief on her features when he admits that nothing has really changed, that he does not see this as some unforgiveable offense from which he needs to completely distance himself from her makes him smile briefly. Happy just because she's happy. It's a small thing, but it is another affirmation in his mind that his instinctive response is the correct one, at least in this particular instance.

So when she leans in, across that gap between them he does much the same, meeting her half way, their lips touching once more, for the first time since that night in Gotham. Like her he doesn't feel the need to rush it, to force it. His free hand slips up the back of her neck, fingers curling in her hair there at the nape of it until that kisses finally breaks.

Then he flashes a wry smile as he leans back once more, surrendering that hold on her with only a little reluctance. It would appear that he understands that the gesture is important and he simply bows his head. "Then we definitely need to do ice cream." he agrees simply.

Gwen Stacy has posed:
Who knows what this is, really, besides a kiss? Well, two kisses, now. But two kisses don't make a relationship. Two kisses by themselves don't equate to an exclusive relationship or a title like 'dating' to most any adult. It's the intention behind the kisses that matters, and that's the hard part.

Gwen never went to that fundraiser with the intention of finding a new boyfriend. Dick didn't go -- presumably -- with the intention of replacing Stephanie as the 'leading lady' in his life. And for as wonderful as the last week of texting back and forth has been, neither of them really _knew_ each other all that well. Dick at least remembers her, now (which she still isn't absolutely positive is a good thing, but she is sure beyond a doubt that it was the 'right' thing to do), which means he knows a more about her than he did five minutes ago.

But that's still not a lot.

They'd only spent that first night together (in separate beds, but still). Yes, there had also been the times he helped her get on her feet, introduced her to some of the Titans, showed her around Titans Tower, but those were nothing like that first night, when they talked. Really talked.

They still had a lot to learn about each other. They both still had to figure out whether they even wanted anything more serious than... this, whatever this is: holding hands, visiting each other, and trading hyperloop passes for ice cream. Kissing. Sometimes.

What's certain, though, is the look in Gwen's eyes once she's leaning back again from Dick having met her for that kiss. Not just stolen, then, but reciprocated. It makes her smile. A warm, genuine smile. It makes warmth radiate all the way up through her chest, into her cheeks, and a light enter her eyes that hasn't been there... maybe ever, in the time Dick's known her. When she first came to this dimension, she'd just lost everything. And when she met him for the 'second time,' everything was colored by the guilt that she was... if not lying to him, then at least not telling him the whole truth.

But now? It's like an incredible weight has been lifted off of her shoulders and set aside. It's like she can smile -- really smile -- for the first time.

"And the Gwen-Tour continues," she muses, humor twinkling in her eyes as she stands up and grabs her cardigan again. "Which, ironically, is what I wanted our band to call it the first time we got booked for a solid weekend. I was, unanimously, shot down. And you see how _that_ turned out."

Cardigan back on, Gwen shrugs the backpack over her shoulder again, too, and gesture around.

"Oh! And, before I forget... welcome. I don't have anything cool like a Titan Tower Tapered Thematically To look like a 'T,'" she alliterates, "but it's home." The kitchen looks sparse, even from here. Not a lot of food on the counter or evidence of the cabinets brimming with supplies or anything. But she's not getting into that part of the tour. "The bedroom's in there which is... um... not a part of _welcome_ tour."

She grins knowingly.

"Window is there. Which.. I use about as much as the door, which is why I let my dad go off on the landlord. It's a lot easier to get in and out when it's working and not trying to slice me to bits."

There's still evidence of scratches to the wall and the sill where the glass was shattered by the bullet.

"I was here when the shooting started. The bullet went through there and thennnn..."

Her eyes trail up to the ceiling and point out a hole in it.

"Up through there. A-P round are _nasty_. My dad handled evidence collection in here, which was both good and bad..." If the web-shooter she forgot she left on the table was any indication. "The fire escape goes up to a garden on the roof, though, so there's nobody above me. That much as good."

Standing there, looking around, clinging to the strap of her backpack, Gwen just seems like... Gwen, finally. Or, at least, what Gwen is probably when she's not suffering crippling anxiety over one thing or another.

"You ready to go? I mean, you're the one tha

Gwen Stacy has posed:
"You ready to go? I mean, you're the one that said you're a rebel, so..."

Dick Grayson has posed:
It is probably not realistic to get too caught up in definiing just where they stand quite yet. Theirs is an unusual situation to put it mildly.

Even if they did not have those unique little factors - like the fact that his original memory of her has been washed away and only just returned - or that both have certain issues with previous relationships to address and deal with in one way or another, a week is not a very long time. They haven't even been on a date. Not really.

Going for ice cream might qualify there.

There is also the fact that they don't live normal lives. That is part and parcel with the territory really. An unavoidable part of being a costumed vigilante. While they no longer have to worry about keeping such things from one another - the electronics spread out on her table make a whole lot more sense to Dick now, for instance - it is not like that might not have an effect in other ways.

Relationships can be hard. They can be even harder when it is difficult or impossible to make time for one another. They both would have fairly busy lives by any standard. Dick, a police officer and adopted son of the most prominent citizen in Gotham City, with an assortment of charitable and social obligations on his calendar. And Gwen, a graduate student with both studies and a job to hold down, not to mention her extracurriculars.

Add superheroing ontop of all of that? Yeah, there is no way to look at it but a challenge.

But to some extent challenges are what they live for. It might not be the singular driving purpose in what they do, but it is a factor. It is something that they have to balance on a daily basis. And what it comes down to is whether it is worth it or not?

That is the question that they both still have to answer. That is what they have the chance to explore now, on a much more even and stable footing now that Gwen has shared the truth. They can both go into it with eyes open. Without a big secret hanging over them, the proverbial sword waiting to drop.

For now, at least, it would seem that neither of them have any doubts. In this moment at least and that is telling. It doesn't settle things, but DIck certainly is relieved to have things out in the open - regardless of how they got here - and from everything he can see, Gwen is every bit as relieved as well.

"I have to admit, thus far the Gwen-Tour has had a few unexpected twists and turns," the dark haired man says wryly, perhaps dramatically understating things under the circumstances. The whole 'we've met before but magic wiped out your memory of it' thing was definitely not anywhere on the list of things that Dick was expecting. Even realizing that something was off with her, that she knew more about him then she perhaps should have, that didn't occur to him.

"But it's had a few high points too, in all fairness. Ones that I think have a reasonably good chance of being repeated," he notes, quickly leaning back in to steal a quick kiss.

Then he lets his hands slip from hers, lets her rise as he does the same, forsaking that spot on the comfy couch. His gaze follows hers about the apartment as she gives the very quick overview, brow arching in amusement at the disclaimer about the bedroom. "Well sure. Gotta have something to encourage repeat visits," he teases mildly.

The teasing fades a little as she points out the remenants of the damage from the shooting, his trained eye easily finding those small little reminders and he nods. "They are," he agrees quietly. "Better to have some cover, though I guess you'd be better able to deal with it then most, even without it," he agrees, given what he now knows.

"I like it," he says at last. "It... suits you," he adds quietly. "Though admittedly it would be higher on my list if it wasn't getting shot up," he points out drily.

"But for now, rebel or not, I'm good with continuing the Gwen-tour. Especially when there is ice cream in the offering," Dick says with a faint smile. "Your treat."

Gwen Stacy has posed:
I have to admit, thus far the Gwen-Tour has had a few unexpected twists and turns..

For a split second, worry floods back into Gwen's expression as her heart plummets towards her stomach.

... Ones that I think have a reasonably good chance of being repeated.

And then it's a third kiss! A smile blossoming once more on her lips as she lets her fingers briefly touch his cheek, only reluctantly slipping down from his jaw as she's standing.

Gotta have something to encourage repeat visits..

Gwen coughs. She actually _coughs_, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as the color in her cheeks darkens noticeably. Look... two kisses is totally ambiguous, but three is enough to stir more than a little hopefulness for the future. It's in the handbook! Somewhere. She's sure of it.

She wasn't trying to replace Ben. Not at the fundraiser. Not even now. But ever since that first night, she's felt something for Dick. Not enough to make their friendship weird. Certainly not enough to cause Stephanie any problems with the man she was supposed to marry. But... it's always been there -- the attraction. Not just physically (though, damn..), but emotionally. He was kind to her. He took her in. He got her to smile. He opened up to her about himself. He made her feel like things might actually be okay. And that doesn't just go away.

She doesn't want to replace Ben. She wants to spend time with Dick for all the same reasons she wanted to when she first met him.

And more, now.

"Hey, like I said, this isn't _usually_ a bad neighborhood," she says with a casual shrug of one shoulder, heading around to the door again. "Which reminds me... do you know anything about a guy that calls himself The Darkness? Teleporter with tentacles and pistols the size of my forearms? Supposedly some kind of primordial being that was only kind-of okay with being called Darth Squiggles? Any idea why the mob is after him? Because... I mean, it's still New York City, but here? A mob hit in the middle of the street? It's.. pretty brazen. They totally crashed his car, which looked like it was worth more than I'll ever make in my lifetime. Dad called it a.. Lucid Air? I'm not really a car buff.."

She's still talking, even out the door and down the hallway, where she passes an older lady watering some potted plants. But really, nothing she was saying was super top secret or anything, even if it is a weird conversation for a twenty-something punk rocker and her _very_ handsome and obvious well off (if his clothes were any indication) companion.

"Hi, Mrs. Keller," Gwen greets cheerfully on the way by.

"Oh, hello, Gwen," the older lady says warmly when she looks up, her eyes widening a little at the sight of Dick Grayson beside her. Did she recognize him? "Is this your boyfriend?"

"Oh! Um. Maybe put a pin in that? We're... just getting to know each other. Again. This is..."

"Dick Grayson. I read the papers. Well... it's all online, now, and ever since you got that awful thing to stop popping up on my screen, I've been able to get back to my knitting videos, but I'm still having trouble with my email..."

Gwen's walking backwards at this point to keep eye contact with the older lady, reaching out for Dick's wrist as she goes to keep him from stopping. "Is it okay if I help you with it a little bit later? I promised Dick I'd buy him some ice cream..."

"Oh, sure, dear. You kids have fun. You're such a modern woman. From a whole different time."

"Don't I know it," Gwen laughs nervously. "See you later Mrs. Keller!"

To the elevators! Quick! Before Gwen runs into anyone else!

Dick Grayson has posed:
The world is an unpredictable place at the best of times. That is probably even more true for them.

Dick Grayson lives in a world where crazed clowns gleefully look to bring terror to his city. Where men roam around with freeze guns, leaving victims completely frozen through. Where the mad and deranged romp and play. And that does not even cover what sorts of things that the Titans sometimes find themselves involved in.

For her, it is even crazier. She's not even from this reality. The people here might look so familiar to the ones that she knew, grew up with, but they are not the same. In some cases the differences might be subtle, subtle enough that her fears that things could turn out the same - like with her father - are well founded.

And they are still very new. Maybe too new to even really think of the pair of them as a 'they'. As if they are some kind of unit. Both of them have relationships to get over, both of them haven't dated - or at least haven't dated someone new - in the recent past.

But it does feel that whatever little hesitations might still exist - be they from previous relationships, from the strangeness of meeting someone again, for the first time, or all the other issues they need to have to deal with in their lives - with each passing moment it feels a little more certain that at least for a time they will face those uncertainties together.

As he manages to provoke that blush from her, he flashes a brief grin her way and despite the fact that things might still be new, Dick still reaches for her hand, still slips his own into hers as they start for the door.

"That's fair. And the sad truth is that this sort of thing can happen everywhere, I should know," he agrees quietly. Certain neighborhoods might be more prone to this sort of thing then others, but it is never totally restricted. Not in New York, not in Gotham.

That is why there is a need for people like them. Ones willing to go outside the law, to do what has to be done to insure that others are kept safe. To lessen the chance that they are ever the ones with armor piercing rounds flying through their windows and walls, endangering the lives of the people they care about.

Maybe that's why they need people more then most. To be reminded of just what they're fighting for. Or, at least in Dick's case, to be reminded that he needs to find a balance between Nightwing and who he is when he's not wearing the costume. To make sure that Dick Grayson doesn't become the mask. To make sure that, as much as he admires the man, that he doesn't become Bruce.

Of course, now that he remembers who she is, that like him she leads an entirely other life it does make certain things easier. But it also means that there can't help but be a little bleed through, to 'work' intruding on personal time.

"The Darkness?" he asks, a small frown creeping over his features and brow furrowing at her description and explanation. "I can't say that I have, but I can check our records when I get back to Gotham. There is probably a better then average chance that something is recorded there," he asserts quietly. Very little escapes Batman's notice. But he lets the matter drop as they pass her neighbor.

As he's recognized, he only offers a smile and nod to Mrs. Keller, seemingly unphased by that fact. Her suspicions are likely to be only further enhanced by the fact that he continues to hold Gwen's hand of course. "I remain optomistic," he says enignmatically, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Then they are off, baring another distractions or two of course.