Working With Red

Pheasants and Unpleasantries

Earlier chapters will soon be edited and made longer. 

* * * 

"Who are you?" 

You didn't reply as you closed the door before approaching the aluminum table. Zayne's eyes followed your every movement until you pulled out the chair opposite him and took a seat, and even then, you remained silent. 

It was odd seeing Zayne in this light. As expected, he'd clearly used his abilities to manipulate the pigment in his skin, seeing as he was now much paler than you'd remembered. His irises had also shifted in color to a deep blue rather than their regular brown. There was something so "uncanny valley" about his appearance that set you even more on edge than you already were. 

"What are you, some kind of circus clown? Wait, you're one of those vigilante types that've been roaming around. What was your name, again?" 

You nearly scoffed aloud at his attempt at an American accent. It sounded far too thick and unnatural, and you'd grown up with Gotham-level diversity. If he'd known better, Nightwing would've seen through the charade in a heartbeat. 

Your shoulders rose and fell with a steady breath as you folded your arms over your chest. Zayne's eyes were shifting around your figure, and you wouldn't deny your subtle satisfaction when his nose twitched as you crossed your legs at the knee. 

The clock hanging over the one-way glass ticked off the seconds, filling the room that was otherwise void of any noise. Roy stood on the other side with the officers, his own arms folded tightly over his chest and attention frantically switching between Zayne and the back of your head. 

Finally, after a minute or so had passed, the officer on the left heaved out a sigh, causing Roy to involuntarily flinch. 

"Should we be concerned--?" 

"Just a moment." Roy lifted a hand to silence the officer, who looked to his colleague before rolling his eyes. "I promise, she has the situation under control." 

Your eyes darted to the brackets through which Zayne's handcuffs had been linked when he lifted a hand to scratch at his chin. The shackles clinked as they brushed against the tabletop. He was fidgeting more often, you noticed, and his attention was beginning to stray. You drew in another calm breath. 

Any minute now. 

"You can't legally detain me without reasoning," he eventually mumbled, leaning back in his chair. "I haven't done anything wrong. Either convict me with something--" 

"Why? Nervous?" you replied, cocking your head to the side. Roy swallowed thickly as the words escaped your unmoving lips. The interrogation had begun. 

"Excuse me?" 

"No mask today? I thought you were so sick that you couldn't be bothered to remove your mask until Nightwing asked you to do so during your questioning yesterday. Hm..." Zayne's eyes narrowed when you pursed your lips. "Feeling better, are we, Cromwell?" 

"Yes, ma'am--" 

"Don't call me ma'am. But Cromwell, huh? That's an interesting name," you muttered, clicking your tongue. "What is it, like, English? Scottish?" 

"I'm not sure, I never bothered doing one of those ancestry tests." Zayne's tone was hard, and you noticed the way his nose periodically twitched again. 

"Oh!" you suddenly exclaimed, making Roy jump. "I bet it's Welsh! You're Welsh, aren't you?" 

"Is this supposed to be a joke? You can't just keep me locked up like this for your own amusement. It's unlawful incrimination."