He had just been getting another drink. This time for Cat. His third lady friend of the night, he had been having a nice evening. He should probably have gone looking for Luna, he was supposed to watch her for Raf. But, no. Here he was locked in the ballroom. How the hell did he get locked in here? Who the hell were those people? He was slumped on the floor, the ballroom was no longer filled by any means. People had moved on to other parts of the yacht. He was on the floor, in more pain than he wanted to admit, his right hand snapped by that freak. They had taken Sera too and locked them in here. They needed to get moving, but Theo was stuck on the floor in massive pain now. His Nightwing costume still clung tight to his body, his eyes closing as he gripped his broken wrist with his one good hand left, why did it have to be his right hand? He used that hand. Fucking hell.
He was breathing heavy. Only about six other people in the room, one of them was Cat though. So he at least knew someone here. The pain was semi-sobering for him, but he could still feel the buzz of the alcohol itching the back of his mind. He had just watched as the door had locked. He hadn’t stopped them. He felt weak, he was weak. He had failed Sera and he had failed Zephyr. He hated himself for it. He looked up from staring at the door just in time to see Cat approaching him, “Hey. So I got our drinks?” He said nodding to the one spilled and one half-empty glasses of whiskey sitting at his side on the floor.
@catdemir