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It could, technically speaking, be called a meet-cute. To do so required one to play fast and loose with the definition of the term, but.
Technically.
It was a meet-cute.
It was at the Wilber Street Farmer’s Market, on a sunny day in late April.
(It was in an alleyway off of Wilber Street, where the smell of street food and the happy chatter of people attending the farmer’s market couldn’t mask the stench-filled silence between high brick walls.)
They bumped into each other accidentally, and hit it off rather quickly.
(Jason was taking a shortcut through the alley on his way home when there was a sound like nails on a chalkboard. One wall of the alleyway tore open, revealing an infinite, unfathomable abyss. Something shot out of the rip in reality at high speed and slammed into him, and he only realized that the thing was a person – a young woman, in fact – when he heard her curse.
A second something – a second person – a large, burly man wearing what looked like medieval robes and armor – followed a moment later. The young woman scrambled to her feet, accidentally digging her knee into Jason’s spleen, and grinned with bloody teeth.
“Bring it,” the young woman had snarled, and Jason had to admit that he had been a little bit surprised when twin daggers materialized in her hands. He’d thought he had the monopoly on magic blink-and-they-vanish blades.
The young woman fought like the lovechild of a hummingbird and a rabid raccoon, and Jason had to admit that he was impressed. He got to his feet, still staring, as she and the burly man did their level best to kill each other.
The rip in reality burbled, and Jason turned to see another figure rocket through it. They were dressed similarly to the burly man, wielding what looked to be a broadsword.
“No, you don’t,” Jason muttered, and before the second man could fully rise to his feet, he slammed his fist into the sucker’s jaw.
The man stumbled backward, his foot slipping on a piece of unidentifiable rot, and tripped right into the portal to the abyss. The first man wasn’t far behind, bleeding from a dozen stab wounds and looking pissed as hell.
The young woman turned to Jason, bloody daggers still held loosely at the ready, and looked him over. Jason returned the favor.
Her hair was bright purple. Magenta, even. So were her eyes, and the shade was distinctly unnatural. She held herself like she knew her way around a fight, and there was a glint in her eye that said you’d be wise not to pick one. Whether or not she was the one to start a fight, she’d be the one to finish it.
The young woman had worked her face for a moment before spitting out a mouthful of blood. Then she’d smiled, looking slightly less completely and utterly feral, and her daggers had vanished.
“Thanks,” she’d said, and Jason had smirked.
“Any time.”)
She was from out of town, and both she and Jason had thought that the encounter would remain the only one of its kind.
(“Well, that was fun, I guess,” the young woman had said. “But I’m just gonna…”
She gestured to the portal, and Jason nodded.
“Yeah, you seem like you’re in the middle of something.”
Her smile had widened a little bit. “You’re surprisingly chill about all this.”
Jason had scoffed. “I live in Gotham, lady. Shit happens every day, and the weirdest of it happens to me.”
“Hmm.” She’d shrugged. “Don’t know where Gotham is, but I can relate. Enjoy your life, I guess.”
“Same to you.”
She’d saluted him, a cocky movement with her first two fingers, and jumped into the abyss. The portal had closed with a snap, and Jason had found himself wondering if maybe he’d hallucinated the entire thing.)
But fate could never be content to remain a simple observer when it came to those who had experienced a meet-cute.
However loosely defined it might be.