Raven may claim that he was the most distracting member of the team, but in Garfield's personal opinion this was the pot calling the kettle black.

When he distracted her it was merely verbal; he may interrupt her as she did whatever it was she did, make a joke or ask her a question she didn't feel like answering. But, while he may assault the ears she attacked every other sense he possessed.

Firstly, she smelled off. Not off bad, but off different . The floral scent of the tea she sipped in the morning. The crisp, slightly dusty smell of old books and manuscripts. And the hint of perfume she wore behind her ears (he knew it was behind her ears because it lingered in her hair and swirled about when the wind caught it). When she fought the salty, damp smell of sweat clung to her, and when she was aroused (because even with the composed fa├žade she was still warm-blooded and young) the scent made him dizzy and jittery and he needed to be far from her.

And she looked off. Every book on zoology he'd ever read told Garfield that only male birds were brilliant, colorful, while the females remained plain, but Raven was no ordinary bird. Violet locks were eye-catching as it were. Violet eyes? When she made eye contact with him all attempts at remaining focused when out the window. And when her skin did become visible (her cloak did a great job at hiding it) it was so pale, so unnervingly white; all eyes were immediately drawn to it. She was colorful and brilliant and feminine. Feminine with long, pretty hands and even longer, prettier legs that he dare not dwell on long. Then there were the little quirks: her top lip was fuller than her bottom; her feet were almost too small, too delicate; the back of her neck was oddly fragile looking. She was visually overwhelming.

Then there was how she felt: off. Odd. Strange. Cold. When their fingers brushed at dinner, passing serving bowls to one another, her hands were icy. When his hand brushed her knee as they all clambered in the back of the T-car, cold. When he pulled her out of harms when out in the field or she him, the body pressed up against his arm felt soft and light and chilled. And he'd suppress a shiver and pull away as quickly as politeness would allow. And later that night, tossing amongst his sheets, Garfield would remember the feeling and feel an ache somewhere in his midsection and suddenly his bed was too warm.

But the worst was taste, because that was the unknown. And when his bed got too warm or her scent made him dizzy and jittery it was what began to bounce around his mind and what he would spend the coming hours trying not to imagine.

Raven may say he was the most distracting of all the Titans, but he couldn't disagree more.