I should've left after training. That had been the plan. The sun was already disappearing behind Gotham's skyline, painting the League's courtyard in shades of gold and orange. Everyone else had gone inside hours ago, leaving only the sound of wooden practice swords scattered across the stone floor and the evening breeze brushing through the trees. Except she was still there. Flatline. She stood in the middle of the courtyard with her back turned, lazily twirling her sword as though she hadn't spent the last two hours trying to knock me onto my back. I tightened the straps around my gloves, pretending I hadn't noticed. Pretending I wasn't watching. She had an annoying habit of lingering just long enough to make leaving feel impossible. I started walking toward the exit anyway. Three steps. Four. Then— "I thought you were leaving." I stopped. "...I was." Another step. Then another. Why wasn't I moving faster? I could hear the faint scrape of her boots against the stone as she turned to face me. Silence settled between us, comfortable in a way I wasn't used to. Most people filled silence with pointless conversation. She didn't. Somehow that made it worse. I glanced back over my shoulder despite myself. She was smiling. Not smug. Not teasing. Just... smiling. It caught me off guard. I looked away almost immediately. Ridiculous. I'd fought assassins, monsters, and metahumans. Yet one girl smiling at me was enough to throw every coherent thought out of my head. I hated that realization. "...You fought better today," I admitted quietly. The words slipped out before I could stop them. A compliment. From me.