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IRIS hated that it was now a regular thing for her to call Dick Grayson in times of panic.
She absolutely despised that she felt the need to contact him and only him. Independent women do not call cute coworkers to relay their problems onto, and cute coworkers don't normally take on a burden like that without a price. Wait a minute – could she seriously stop referring to Dick as –
Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn't stopped pacing since she got back to her apartment. Her heartbeat still hadn't calmed down, and she refused to take off her parka until she stopped shivering. The Full House rerun on TV did nothing to calm her nerves. Closing her eyes, Iris silently begged for someone just to pick up Dick Grayson's phone – even if it was his mother or something. Maybe even Batman.
Now that she thought of it, talking to Batman probably wasn't the best idea. She could hardly breathe as it is.
It was on the third ring. Iris was ready to give up. And then, a magical moment happened –
"Iris," Dick breathed out on the other end, "I'm super busy right now. I'm helping Angeles with something so I'm still at the station –"
She couldn't stop herself from interrupting: "I know who's been tracking me."
Dick was silent for a moment. Iris heard something shut softly through her speaker, and she raised a brow with suspicion. "What happened?" He asked, his tone direct and grim.
Iris looked up at the ceiling, noticing that the paint was chipping up there too. She sighed into her speaker before padding over to the refrigerator. "I wish I could explain," she replied, grabbing a water bottle from the top shelf. "But I literally can't."
"Can you please try?"
Iris guzzled half of the bottle in less than thirty seconds. This was one of the first times she grabbed water instead of whiskey in a moment of crisis. "Basically –" She paused to wipe excess water off her mouth. "– I took the train tonight like normal, but it was weirdly empty, and then some weird, short guy approached me, saying some shit like, 'We all know you, Iris.' So my fight or flight response went off like a zinger, and he told me he's part of this group called the Coatls, who have been wanting this necklace for who knows how long. And then, he said something about the necklace choosing me? I don't know. He shouted something about the return of Chalch– I can't pronounce it – before jumping out of the train and killing himself!"
Dick was silent again. Iris' knuckles were turning white as she crushed the water bottle in her tight grip. "Dick Grayson," she spat, "if you've hung up on me, I swear to fucking god that I will –"
