alwaysroomforhope | (no subject)

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The thing about working the graveyard shift Steph likes the most is that she gets to see the sun rise. It's not as lovely a sunrise as Gotham produces -- the air here is too clean, not enough pollution for light to refract from -- but it's still pretty awesome.

And then she gets to sleep all day.

There's really no downside.

However, today she's really tired for once; Mel's still downstairs, so she's signed off early and she's dragging her feet towards her suite at only two o'clock. It's been a long shift and a longer week, and she still can't quite shake the weird dreams. Not that she doesn't appreciate the change -- weird dreams are quite nice in comparison with the usual nightmares -- but they're weird, and knowing there's a reason doesn't make it any less so.

She shuts the door quietly, even though Tim's not here at the moment, and trudges towards the bedroom, already peeling off her shirt and boots.

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The childishness of this tug o' war doesn't escape Goldy. She's quick to shift the blame away from herself though.

"Gah," she utters through gritted teeth.

"Grow up!"

"Grow up yourself."

Steph frees one hand from the pillow and flips a lock of Goldy's hair over to the wrong side of her head.

Then she laughs at her.

Steph is nice like that.

"Ack! You bitch!"

Her Achilles Heel having been mercilessly exploited, Goldy reflexively lets go of the pillow in order to fix the moved hair.

"That was below the belt," she whines.

As much as she is trying, she can't right the errant strands to her satisfaction, because there's no mirror.

Steph looks very smug as she tucks the pillow comfortably under her cheek.

"Mirror's in the bathroom, G."

And when she gets out, Steph will be, to all appearances, soundly asleep.

Goldy has to accept that she's been out-played. Doesn't mean she has to like it though.

She huffs loudly as she tears the covers off and indelicately removes herself from the bed. If Steph receives a kick or two in the process, so be it.

"I can't believe you have to fix your hair before going to bed," Steph says, tolerantly, from the comfort of her pillow. "You're the weirdest person I know."

"So I'm a bit obsessive-compulsive over my one legendary characteristic," Goldy replies as she stomps grumpily into the bathroom. "Big deal. If that makes me the weirdest person you know, you really need to get out more."

Once she has her reflection to work with, the egregious hair displacement is quickly remedied. She lingers there for a little longer, unnecessarily primping just to be contrary.

"Besides, normally there's someone worth impressing in the bed, or potentially showing up."

"Bite me," Steph retorts sleepily, and adjusts the pillow to better suit herself, although she does grudgingly shove over a little so that when the Fable returns there'll be more room.

"Damn girl, you sure change your tune fast when worthiness is at stake," Goldy chuckles. "I wasn't planning on anything quite that kinky, but I'll see what I can do."

Smirking wryly, she pads into the living room and filches the pillow that the mystery couch sleeper has been using. He will have to make do with cushions tonight.

"So... who's the charity case?" she queries as she drops the pillow down beside Steph's and clambers back under the sheets.

"Nobody," Steph responds, reaching out to smack her absently for the first comment. "... much."

Goldy shrugs off the thwap with a little snicker, and starts plumping the new pillow.

"There's no need for secrecy. I promise I won't mock. Or hit on him."

"...Much."

Steph sits up, giving up on pretending to be asleep.

"If you hit on Robin I am going to thump you so hard, G. You're way too old for him!"

Goldy grins smugly at the revelation, basking in the fact that she'd barely had to work for it at all.

"Another Robin huh?"

Steph scowls at her.

"Yes. He's — from before."

"...Before your untimely demise," Goldy advances.

"Ugh. Awkward."

She wrinkles her nose, gives the pillow a final thump, and settles herself down, facing Steph.

"Does he know you're dead now?"

Steph sighs, and slips back down in the bed, thumping her head down on her own nicely-plumped pillow and scowling at the roof.

"Yeah. Oracle told him." Stupid Oracle.

"I'm sorry. That's got to be weird for both of you."

Sensing Steph's unhappiness at the situation, Goldy reaches up and gives her hair a comforting stroke.

"Was it prudent for her to give him that insight into his future?"

Steph shrugs. "It's too late now. He probably would have figured it out, anyway."

She lets Goldy stroke her hair, though.

"He's Bound, and he's staying here till ... whenever. So be nice to him, okay?"

"I will," Goldy vows quietly. It's clearly a sincere promise, as rare as that is for her.

"Does he have a name?"

To anyone else, Steph'd instantly respond with "Sure, it's Alvin." To Goldy, though, she hesitates.

"... Yes, but it's — secret. He's going by Alvin."

Goldy gives her an understanding nod.

"Oddly dated name choice for the twenty-first century. But, fair enough."

She's no stranger to false identities herself, so she doesn't press the issue.

"If he's a friend of yours, he must be a decent guy. I look forward to meeting him."

"Maybe I should supervise," Steph says, with a hint of a grin. "He's a great guy, but he has this thing for hot blondes."

Goldy arches an eyebrow.

"Had a thing for you did he?"

"I can't blame him," she then concedes.

"Well, if you can call it a thing," Steph says. She rolls onto her stomach and props her chin on her hands. "We were together for, like, ever. I mean, I didn't think we'd ever break up. Technically we didn't, I just died. Only he's from before that. So it's all ... sorta weird, right now."

"You're still his girl back in his world?"

Goldy makes a face.

"Ouch. Poor Alvin."