Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t? [DC comics is wild, y'all. She gives his hand a little squeeze—- in contrast to his big, room temperature hands, hers are small and warm. Once upon a time, they might have been called dainty, but now they’re rough and scarred—- the hand he’s got now has two fresher scars, which are… interestingly enough to Nandor in particular, the perfect size each to be from a tooth? But they aren’t the right distance or shape for fangs.

Her usual smile falls, and she allows herself to be candid.]

But that was different. I had Huntress with me, and the other gals were just a call away. Even when things were bleak, I wasn’t scared. I haven’t ever felt this helpless.