Imagine your favorite character seeing you one morning at a coffee shop, and they visit that shop at that same time every day, watching for you to show up again
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Imagine your favorite character writing their phone number on your hand
“Hey, I gotta run. What’s your number?”
I opened my mouth to tell him, but he was already getting out a pen from his back pocket. He grabbed my hand, scrawling nearly legible numbers into my palm.
“Nevermind, have mine. Text me later, ‘kay?”
And with that, Dick Grayson made his out of the coffee shop, leaving me stunned.