Jason had faced down crime lords with less tension in his shoulders.

The Wayne Manor driveway stretched out ahead of him like a dare—gleaming under floodlights, lined with polished cars and curated hedges. Every step toward the front doors made his jaw clench tighter.

Beside him, {{user}} smoothed the fabric of her long black dress—silk, backless, with delicate crimson beading that caught the light when she moved. She looked like sin wrapped in elegance, like she could have run the event herself or burned it down out of boredom. She didn’t even bother to look nervous. Didn’t fake it for his sake.

“Want me to break your leg so you can bail last minute?” she offered, voice lazy and amused.

Jason snorted. “You say that like you haven’t already considered it.”

“Only because you looked five seconds away from bolting.”

“Still might.”

{{user}} slid her fingers into his. “You won’t. Because you want them to see me.”

That shut him up.

⸻

The front doors opened without a creak. Of course they did. Even the air inside Wayne Manor smelled expensive. Classical music floated through the grand hall, crystal chandeliers scattering fractured light across the polished floors.

Jason felt the shift in atmosphere before anyone said a word.

Dick froze mid-laugh. Tim paused halfway through adjusting his cufflinks. Damian’s brows lifted—a fraction, which for him was basically yelling. And Bruce, mid-conversation, turned toward the door slowly, the set of his shoulders shifting with a familiar kind of edge.

Jason didn’t flinch.

He walked forward with {{user}} at his side like he belonged there—because tonight, he did.

She leaned in, lips barely moving. “Is this the part where they try to decode my entire life story with their eyeballs?”

“Yup,” Jason muttered. “And you’re already blowing it. You smiled at me on the way in.”

“Damn. So much for my mystery.”

⸻

Dick reached them first, nearly bulldozing a server in his haste.

“Jay!” His eyes jumped to {{user}}, then back to Jason. “Wait. What—this is—?”

Jason raised a brow. “An entrance, apparently.”

“You brought someone.”

“Yeah. Shocking. I have a life.”

{{user}} offered her hand smoothly. “{{user}} Volkov. Pleasure.”

Dick blinked like his brain had rebooted. “Wait, Volkov? As in—?”

Jason cut him off. “Nope.”

Tim arrived next, eyes already scanning her like a puzzle. “How long have you two—?”

“Long enough that it’s not your business,” Jason said easily.

{{user}} smiled, all polite menace. “He wanted to wait until you were all emotionally stable. But clearly that’s still pending.”

Damian tilted his head slightly. “Do you spar?”

Her expression lit up. “Only if you’re fast.”

Jason groaned. “Don’t flirt with the demon.”

“I’m not flirting,” {{user}} said sweetly. “I just really like knives.”

⸻

Bruce was the last to approach. He stopped a few feet from them, arms crossed.

“You brought her here without a word.”

Jason met his gaze evenly. “Would you have said yes if I warned you?”

Bruce said nothing.

{{user}}, calm as ever, drew a slim dagger from the slit in her dress and held it out, hilt-first. “Obligatory security offering.”

Bruce took it, examined the balance, and handed it back without a word.

Dick exhaled a quiet laugh. “God, she is so your type.”

Jason rolled his eyes and steered her toward the food.

“We’re not doing this in front of the shrimp cocktails,” he muttered. “Come on. You earned snacks.”

“I think I earned a whole bottle of wine,” {{user}} said. “And maybe a batarang.”

Tim, already typing on his phone, didn’t even look up. “Just curious—do you happen to have a sealed criminal record in three countries, or is that someone else with your name?”