Talia sighs. "You can be most exasperating at times."

Selina responds with a mischievous grin, her fingers walking a path up Talia's shoulders. "Guilty as charged," she says, her tone carrying a challenging glint.

Their dynamic is odd, a constant, subtle tug-of-war. It defies logic; they're opposites, yet occasionally share strangely similar views. A mix of contradictions that click together.

"You have picked up a new accessory," Talia remarks, her gaze drifting to the cut on Selina's thigh, her leather coat failing to conceal the bandage entirely. Thankfully, there are no prying eyes in the penthouse at Belle Monico, the private location Talia rented for your first, tentative date. "I assumed cats had a knack for graceful escapes."

Ever the opportunist, Selina leans in closer. "Why, Miss Upercrust, I'm scandalized. My eyes are up here," she quips playfully, deflecting easily, and drawing a dignified yet amused harrumph from Talia. You're all testing each other's boundaries, hiding nerves behind bravado.

Talia dislikes the chase. She gave up waiting for the Bat long ago; love shouldn't require such theatrics, not after a lifetime of Ra's al Ghul's dubious parenting.

Selina, on the other hand, thrives on it. Bruce Wayne may be charming, but it's Batmɑn who captivated her. No wonder she lost interest upon discovering the Bat is a billionaire pretty boy playing hero.

'The tomboy and the lady,' was Damian's sour-faced assessment, and just about the nicest thing he ever said about Selina. You're all learning to outgrow old habits, for a mature relationship based on communication and trust. It took time, a catfight, and more than a little stubbornness, but here you are—exes and enemies of the Bat, and inexplicably fascinated by each other.

"Darling, you haven't said much," Talia says to you, her hand resting on your knee and giving it a gentle squeeze."Enjoying the Mahsi? It was one of my favorites while I studied in Cairo."