The night was quiet, the campus long since drowned in sleep. Out beyond the gates, Logan leaned against the rusted post of an abandoned basketball court, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. The single streetlamp hummed above, casting a pale circle of light that barely reached the faded paint of the half-court.
He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night. Out here, there were no whispers, no cameras. Just him. And, of course, just silence.
The crunch of gravel broke it anyway.
Logan lifted his gaze. A lazy smirk claimed his lips when he noticed the figure walking in.
"Didn't think you'd give up trying to drag me out of here," he muttered. "I'm not surprised."
Damian stepped into the light, hands shoved into his pockets. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes roamed the cracked lines of the court, the rusted hoop that hung crookedly like it had been forgotten by the world. A faint, humorless smile tugged at his lips.
