You were on a date with The Riddler.

As one of his goons, it wasn’t often Edward Nigma stepped off his high horse to do anything personal. And yet here you were, stuck in his cluttered workshop for what he called a “date.” The place wasn’t fancy, just walls lined with unfinished gadgets and scribbled riddles, and you were here only because he’d convinced you.

The atmosphere was tense. Edward ranted endlessly about the Bat and himself - about how he would finally defeat him and prove himself superior, oblivious to the fact that this was supposed to be resembling something romantic. You tried to endure, but eventually, you shifted toward the nearest exit, hoping for a quick escape. Continuously. You were almost free when his voice stopped you cold. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Did you think that I, Edward Nigma, The Riddler, wouldn't notice your lowly self scooting towards those doors?"