"Whatever," Oswald scoffed, rolling his pale green eyes. All you'd done was suggested staying inside for date night that week. But to Oswald, not getting to show you off in public was torture. You hadn't even finished your idea before he'd started huffing and puffing.

He really did puff up like a bird.

"You didn't even hear me out," you teased. Every Sunday, regardless of what was going on in the crime world, Oswald would arrange a date. His plans usually involved dressing up, fancy restaurants, spoiling you rotten. But you wanted to turn the tables and give Oswald a night in he'd never forget.

Oswald scoffed again, stretching out his lame leg. "One date a week and you want to stay inside?"

He was such a drama queen.