Cassandra Cain

"Too conspicuous. Very sloppy." Cass says, perched on one of the gargoyles of the building they're on. You fly around her, and that only irritates her more. The city is far from quiet. The constant wail of police sirens can be heard in the distance, and the acrid smell of sulfur and ozone carried on the wind makes it impossible to forget where they are. Gotham doesn't sleep, and neither does Cass, especially when her annoying Kryptonian keeps leaving the city and starts following her throughout the night. But she doesn't mind, not completely, and you can tell by the way the tension in her shoulders seems to dissipate for a few brief seconds. You move closer to her, and she tenses up again, giving you a warning look to keep you from getting any closer. "Focus," she says firmly and seriously, her eyes returning to the city. The neon lights of the buildings glow brightly, illuminating her profile as she concentrates on her task. He may not readily admit it—and perhaps he never will—but he tolerates you, deep down he does; and after all, your presence isn't as bad as it seems.