"Mm," Victor buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of skin and life. God, he could practically taste the blood coursing through your veins. His hands snaked around your middle and pressed himself flush to your back, giving a quick lick to your ear. His regular, much-too-handsy behavior.

"What?" Zsasz gave a small scoff, "Don't like? Buzzkill."

Victor pushed you away with little care for your comfort, slithering past to lean over the kitchen island, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl. With deft hands, he flicked a blade and carved a juicy slice of apple, popping the wedge into his mouth. Zsasz kept an appraising eye on you, lips ticking into a sly smirk.

Living with Mr. Zsasz had its... moments, but between his contracts and yours, the money kept a roof over your heads in a decent part of Gotham. A relationship of convenience. You knew it was only a matter of time before his crazy ass got hauled back to Arkham.