[ After she catches her footing on the branch of her choice, she goes still. There are no telltale whispers of noise, no scrape of boot agains branch or brush of cloth. She bites her lip, waiting, tensed but unsure of herself. Will he attack? Does he have something planned? Should she make a move? But what kind of move?
The moment drags on, and she's sure that her advantage of the flash is rapidly fading away. Finally she speaks, her voice sounding high and disruptive to her own ears in the silence of the arena. ]
You... want a spar, or what?
[ She doesn't like that she has to ask, it throws off the rhythm entirely. What kind of Robin can't seamlessly interpret Batman's moves and go along with it? But this is new ground to her, and she doesn't like the uncertainty of it. ]
no subject
The moment drags on, and she's sure that her advantage of the flash is rapidly fading away. Finally she speaks, her voice sounding high and disruptive to her own ears in the silence of the arena. ]
You... want a spar, or what?
[ She doesn't like that she has to ask, it throws off the rhythm entirely. What kind of Robin can't seamlessly interpret Batman's moves and go along with it? But this is new ground to her, and she doesn't like the uncertainty of it. ]