A/N: man it's been ages since I've written Cass's POV, and I'm honestly not sure if I've ever written this much Kate.

Tumblr prompt for weekend_conspiracy_theorist: Can I request a Kate and Cass mentor/mentee bonding session, be it a movie night, sparring session, or whatever you so choose?

Cass likes watching the others fight sometimes.

Words are hard; words will always be hard, but fighting? Fighting is easy. Fighting makes sense. She sees their personalities in the way they spar with each other, the exchanging of blows like an intricate dance.

Cass spars with Batman the most. Sparring with him is familiar and fun.

But today she's supposed to be sparring with Kate. She's not sure what she's supposed to get from it.

Kate's stance is confident and assured as she sizes Cass up. She knows what Cass can do, what she's capable of. She does not intend to underestimate Cass.

Cass makes the first move, darting forward and ducking under the attempted kick. She feints left, moves right, keeps going until she's behind Kate, where she tries to strike, a well placed elbow aiming for the small of Kate's back. Kate moves faster than expected, turning to block the blow, and Cass has to move back to avoid being tangled in the mass of Kate's cape. It's like sparring Bruce in that. Cass has to admire the flow of the cape, the way it ripples through the air like a flag.

Kate attacks next—there is power behind her movements. Most people would easily be put down by a few blows from Kate's fist. Cass is not most people. She takes one punch to the shoulder, grabbing the wrist and swinging Kate to the ground.

Military—that's where Cass recognizes some of her movements. Kate moves like the military, like the soldiers with guns that Cass has encountered. She remembers being told that Kate had been military, once, but that's far from all there is in Kate's style—there are similarities to Bruce, to the army of Bat Men, to Kate's father, down in the cells.

Thinking of fathers is a bad idea, and Cass spins to cover the slight hesitation, focusing instead on the way she's imitating Christine's movements from that morning, practicing her spins until she could do eight of them in a row. Cass wonders how many she could do, if she tried. She hasn't tried to imitate that routine yet. She wants to. Christine had been so elegant, a blur of motion as she had practiced again and again, occasionally glancing up at Cass between spins to smile at her and to see Cass's encouraging nods.

Kate lunges again, and this time Cass retaliates with a series of punches and kicks of her own; right shoulder, right side, left kneecap. She follows it up with a spinning kick—a bit showy, but Cass can hear the music from the studio in her mind, and it… fits.

And it works; Kate goes down, and Cass smirks.

"Good job," Kate says, out of breath. "You're getting flashy though. The ballet rubbing off on you?"

Cass shifts. She hadn't realized it had been so obvious.

Kate places a hand on Cass's shoulder. Cass blinks at the unexpected contact, but it's pleasant enough, a friendly gesture. "There's a show tonight," she says. "Are you going?"

Cass shrugs. Night means patrol, but she might get to watch part of it from her attic hideaway. Christine's not a principle for this one, which Cass thinks is silly, because Christine is a way better dancer than the girl they've got dancing the main part.

"I've got tickets," Kate says. "Good seats, too."

Cass feels knocked askew. "But… patrol?"

"The others can take care of it for one night," Kate says, she's not smiling, but her body language is warm and open, the invitation genuine. Cass hesitates. She hasn't been to a proper show since Mother, not since Harper and Steph took her.

She wants to do this.

She nods, smiling up at Kate.

"Good," Kate says. "We'll leave at six; we'll get dinner beforehand."

"What… should I wear?" Cass asks. She thinks she still has the old dress from that night somewhere; but it will be crumpled and dirty.

"I think Bruce got you something," Kate says to her, and Cass blinks, realizing that this is something they'd discussed. "Check your room."

Something warm unfurls like a blossoming flower in Cass's stomach. They'd talked about this—what she'd like to do.

Cass goes to the room where she spends the nights she doesn't spend at the studio, and sure enough, there's a black dress waiting for her. She examines it closely, and smiles when she spots the tiny yellow bat, embroidered on the inside of the skirt.