then you kissed me — i felt hot wax on my forehead. i wanted it to leave a mark; that's how i knew i loved you. because i wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end.
“ Grayson . . . ? ”
So spoke the boy in the mask, the one it knew to be called Robin. His hand was extended then, reaching out with such a foreign tenderness — yet it flinched away from him all the same.
“ No. ”
It said this softly.
“ No . . . Talon is only the Gray Son. ”