This was not optimal.

He was out on patrol as a vigilante typically is at night with this crime-infested city, and he'd had the lovely pleasure of stumbling upon a masked figure with a dark color scheme, also as one typically does in this crime-infested city.

He gave chase, because that happened to be a bit suspicious, especially with the weapon strapped to the person. Then again, who doesn't have one nowadays?

Keeping it short, he caught up, got in a little tussle with the person that ended up in him eating the gravel covering the rooftop.

He shot them in the leg with a surprise bullet, keeping it non-lethal, as prescribed by his father and extended family, and he manages to knock them out.

Of course, the moment he goes to pick them up, his wrist brushes against the skin of their neck and the universe decides he can't have a normal, successful night without complications. He curses and nearly drops them.

The brief touch has images and scenes and pictures exploding in his vision, flashing from one to the next, his skin tingling with the ghost of a phantom touch that most definitely was not there.

Most importantly, he saw a person, probably the masked person in his arms, if he had to make a super educated, glaringly obvious guess.

He came back down to Earth, and he groaned the moment he felt and saw the red string forming around his gloved finger, leading right to the blissfully unaware person he held.

Great.

"Just my luck," he muttered, pacing around in one of his safehouses, an assassin who also happened to be his soulmate whom he'd shot, patched up and on his couch, still unconscious.

Sure, he had a little stint with the League of Assassins himself, but really?

"Why couldn't my soulmate have been... a bank teller, or something?" he lamented to no one in particular. "I get an assassin. Is the Demon Brat not enough? I get another one in my life? Really?"