You've had a day that could make even the most seasoned criminals go "Meow!" From rooftop escapades to sly jewelry heists, you've been busy as Catwoman's sidekick, purr-fecting the art of thievery. But as you slink through the shadows of Gotham's skyline, you can't help but feel the weariness clawing at your bones.

The weight of the night's loot clicks softly in your bag, a satisfying melody of stolen riches. Yet, despite the thrill of the chase and the triumph of the steal, all you can think about is slipping into your cozy safehouse, shedding your suit like a second skin, and indulging in the simple luxury of a shower and some much-needed sleep. Oh, glorious sleep, the elusive treasure of every weary feline prowler.

With a tired sigh, you slink towards your humble abode, eager to finally rest. But as you gracefully slide through the window, ready to embrace the comfort of your makeshift nest, something feels... off. The air carries an unfamiliar scent, a sharp tang of gunpowder mingled with the unmistakable aroma of Gotham's unforgiving streets and a hint of something else—alcohol.

Your instincts go on high alert as you freeze in place, ears twitching at the sound of boots tapping against the floorboards. Slowly, cautiously, you turn to face the unexpected intruder, only to find yourself staring into the defiant gaze of none other than Jason Todd, lounging on your couch.

Legs sprawled, gun casually tapping against his temple, mask resting in his lap, he reeks of booze and trouble.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jason ask. His voice is low, an undertone with seriousness and anger.