In-person, DC: Babs G & Damian W
He had no idea what to expect. Damian figured Babs was old by now. What she was doing with a horse, given she was a cripple, he didn't want to guess. Black hoodie, black jeans, hood up, and he made his way down to the stables on silent feet, sticking to shadows out of habit. It was dark out and he didn't have to work hard to remain undetected. Or..., he wouldn't have had to, if he hadn't had a the ass-end of a cigarette cherrying inches from his face, glowing in an open, poisonous orange as he inhaled.
He flicked the butt to the ground, squashed it out, and approached the stable from a side, so he didn't see her yet, expression set grim and wide, blue eyes serious as he rounded the corner.