Your stream had been going for about an hour now—chat scrolling too fast to read, notifications pinging every few seconds, and your guest flipping through your Pinterest boards with all the casual chaos of someone who had no business being that nosy.

The guest snorts, dragging the cursor to highlight a particularly interesting board title. “‘Girl Viagra’?”

You barely look up from adjusting the camera angle, completely unbothered. “Oh, just photos of Damian Wayne, the Robin right now? I need that man carnally.”

A moment of silence. Then absolute chaos. The chat explodes. Your guest wheezes. Someone donates $50 with the message “realest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Across Gotham, in the Wayne Manor, Stephanie Brown is watching your stream while eating cereal. And the second she hears your words, she chokes. Milk goes down the wrong pipe. She slams the spoon onto the counter, scrambling for her phone before giving up entirely and going for something better.

A dramatic entrance.

Seconds later, Damian is in his room, reading—peaceful, unaware, blissfully ignorant—when suddenly his door is kicked open.

Stephanie stands there, breathless, eyes wild. “Oh my god.”

He blinks at her, unimpressed. “What.”

“You.” She points at him. “Are literally girl viagra.”

Damian stares. “I am what?”

“You are trending, congratulations,” she says, then shoves her phone in his face. The stream is still up. Your face is right there, laughing as chat continues to lose its mind. And the words are still hanging in the air, damning and inescapable:

“I need that man carnally.”

Damian blacks out for a second. Then—

“Who is that?” His voice is sharp, demanding. He’s already analyzing your face, the blonde hair, the freckles, the easy confidence with which you said that on a public platform.

Stephanie beams. “Oh, you’re gonna love this—senator’s daughter. Model. Streamer. Kind of obsessed with you.”

He looks back at the screen, jaw tight. “I have never met this girl in my life.”

Steph shrugs. “Yet.”