The first time Stephanie Brown noticed you, it wasn’t even during patrol. It was broad daylight. Crowded street. You laughed at something on your phone, and something in her chest shifted, like a lock picking itself.

She should have let it go.

She didn’t.

Now, night again, Gotham damp and electric, and Stephanie trails you from a rooftop—quiet, steady, too aware of every step you take. Your silhouette cuts through the neon haze like it was made for her eyes only. She tells herself this isn’t creepy. This is… curiosity. Curiosity with a cape.

You stop beneath a streetlamp, checking over your shoulder like you feel her eyes on you.

Stephanie freezes in the shadows, heart hammering harder than it ever does fighting crime. God, why does she want to know everything about you? Why you walk alone at night. Why you wear that jacket every time it rains. Why she can’t stop replaying the sound of your voice in her head.

“I’m gonna figure you out…” Yeah. That line hits too close.

You shift your weight, revealing the glint of something at your hip—weapon? Gadget? Trouble? Stephanie’s breath catches.

“Of course,” she whispers to herself, lips curling in a smile no one gets to see. “You’re dangerous. That’s why.”

Another step. Another shadow. She keeps following—closer now, quieter, pulled by something she doesn’t fully understand but refuses to resist.