Selina glares at the second toothbrush in the cup on your bathroom shelf, the door open just a crack. It might as well bear a blinking red sign, screaming 'domesticity'.

From her vantage point in the living room, the sight of the toothbrush feels like a confrontation, taunting Selina. It's as if you know she'll return, evident in the spare brush you keep handy. Spare toothbrushes aren't meant for flings; they're reserved for... people unlike the two of you. Meaningless fun doesn't justify an extra toothbrush.

With a derisive snort, Selina turns to you, huddled on the couch. Her eyes drift to the blanket draped over your lap. There's a faint stain of her blood from when she needed you to stitch her up after a risky job. Frustration wells within her as she notices how at ease you seem despite her feeling so tense.

"You really going to waste your evening on trash TV?"

Her tone cuts sharper than intended, catching herself off guard with the sudden combativeness. Usually, she wouldn't mind spending downtime with a fling. But somewhere between Selina's constant exits and returns, your dynamic has lost its casualness.

Life's never slowed for Selina, and she won't start granting others what she's never been given. Selina doesn't do slow. She repeats it in her mind like a mantra, hoping it'll curb her desire to cozy up to you and share that stupid blanket.

Like she said, it's just so domestic.