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Tim hated Halloween. Hated It. Hated the candy - hated the people – okay, well, he may not have hated it but considering that he has to work on the holiday and the rogues are out and about for the holiday and people dress up as mass-murderers so casually. He hates it. He learned to hate it. Although, he has a nagging suspicion that if he went to god forbid, Metropolis for Halloween, he’d judge it there. After all, Gotham is twenty times better than Metropolis. No matter WHAT Kon says. Who can say? It’s Gotham. He was tricked into liking it and all of the cities’ little quirks.
That’s how he gets stuck on this roof – staring down at the woman who just took out five people – twice her size – blinking behind his mask. “What the fuck.” She was quick and non-lethal but strong enough to knock them out and toss them over her shoulder like they weighed nothing. Again, what the fuck, he thinks as she slaps her hands together and dusts them like she’s working in a bakery of all places, then presses her hands into her dress. She's dressed in a dress made of varying grays, with an umbrella that she's rigged to look like a cloud. It's got what looks like varying blue beads that hang from it and lights that are woven throughout the fake clouds. He's impressed.
She glances up at him, and he startles for a moment – before he jumps down next to her, his gaze landing on her bag – huge bag – of candy? “Aren’t you a bit old for trick or treating?” He says – stupidly, and cringes inwardly. That is not what he wanted to say. Good Job, Tim. She raises a brow, “I’m not the one dressed up in a bird costume.” She retorts instantly and he huffs. Okay – that’s fair. “I’m not – I’m Red Robin!” She shrugs, as she bends down to pick up the bag and her umbrella, “I won’t judge you if you won’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging?”
“I’m pretty sure that you are.”
“All that candy is going to give you a sugar rush.”
She shrugs, “Then that’ll be my own --- problem? Fault?” She’s unsure of the correct word to use here, and Tim realises that her accent is French in nature. She must not be from America. Maybe Canada? “Fault,” he offers and she nods. “Why are you here in Gotham on Halloween?” She shrugs. “Just moved here. Business opportunities.” She’s barely giving him any information and he approves of it. Granted, if she was trying to hide from him – it wouldn’t work, but she’s done nothing to arouse his suspicions yet aside from taking out men twice her size.
Speaking of --- “Oracle, send police to my location. I’ll be walking this lady home.” The woman raises her brow, “I don’t even know you,” she rebuts and he shrugs. “Red Robin, at your service.” She lets out a hum, “And you aren’t planning on killing me?” He snorts, “No. Batman has a no killing rule. Beside from that, I just saw you take down five men twice your size,” He says that for Oracle’s benefit mostly, “by yourself. I’m not stupid enough to try to go against you. It’s Halloween. I’d prefer if you got home safely instead of leaving a trail of bodies behind you to get home.” She shrugs, “That’s fair I guess. I live on the Upper East. I was out with some friends – well, acquittances- they dragged me out tonight, and despite me telling them I was swamped with work and didn’t really want to go out they dragged me out anyways. I left them once I could – stopped and grabbed all the candy I could have,” she tilts her head towards the bag on her arm as he falls in step with her, “And then started home.”
He nods, that’s usually what happens to him too. “What do you do?”
“Fashion Design.”
He nods. “It’s cut-throat. Good luck.” Although, with how she looks, he's not certain that she really needs the luck. She smiles, secretive, and he’s amused by the look in her eyes that says she knows more – is worth more – than he can ever know. He finds that he’s very interested in it. Eventually, they make it to the high-rise of her apartment complex, and he blinks, looking up at it. He whistles. “This place is expensive.” She winks.
“Fashion design.” She states, before lifting herself just up enough to place a kiss on his cheeks. “Thanks for walking me home, Red Robin. It’s appreciated.” She shifts, and then digs into the bag and pulls out a Hershey kiss. “Here, a treat for you. Don’t get a sugar rush.”
Oracle laughs in his ears, and he nods, mutely, taking the candy from her. “Can I have your name?” She pauses, as she moves to walk through the door, “Marinette. Good luck finding me, Red Robin.”