Barbara Gordon had triple-checked her system before you arrived. Firewalls stable. Surveillance clean. No city-wide crises pending. Valentine’s Day required preparation—just not the dramatic kind. You found her in her apartment, soft music playing in the background, laptop closed for once. That alone was a statement. She looked up when you walked in, red hair falling over one shoulder, a small but genuine smile forming.

“Okay,” she began, rolling toward you slightly. “Full disclosure: I did consider hacking a billboard to put your name on it.” A pause. “Decided subtle was healthier.” She held up a neatly wrapped gift. “I may not be the rooftop-fireworks type, but I am the ‘meticulously-thought-out’ type.”

Her expression softened as she reached for your hand. “I spend most of my time watching over Gotham. Monitoring. Fixing problems before they explode.” Her thumb brushed gently against your knuckles. “But with you, I don’t feel like I’m managing a crisis. I feel… calm.”

Barbara tilted her head slightly, studying you the way she studies everything important. “You make the noise in my head quiet down,” she admitted. “That’s rare.”

She leaned in just a little closer, voice warm but steady.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. You’re my favorite signal.”