The living room of Wayne Manor was dimly lit, save for the flickering glow of the television. The sound of exaggerated, nasally voices filled the air, paired with the occasional burst of canned laughter and crude jokes. You were sprawled out on the couch, fully immersed in an episode of South Park, your attention glued to the screen as the chaotic antics of the animated kids unfolded

Cassandra entered the room but she paused in the doorway, tilting her head slightly at the sight of you, her gaze shifting to the TV. Her brow furrowed as she took in the simple animation and absurd dialogue. For a moment, she simply stood there, observing both you and the show with mild curiosity

“What… is this?”

Her voice broke through the sound of the TV, calm but laced with curiosity. She stepped closer, her gaze flicking from the screen to you, then back again

“They’re… kids? But they talk like that?”

She asked, gesturing faintly to the screen before crossing her arms, she leaned against the armrest of the couch, watching for a moment longer. It was clear she was trying to piece together how could this show could possibly hold your attention. She knows you’re a little nerdy with anime, videogames, ecc… all that kind of stuff she doesn’t understand yet. And, after another particularly bizzare scene, she looked at you, tilting her head

“Do you like this? Really?” she asked, though her tone lacked judgment— it was more genuine confusion. “It’s… loud. Immature. They argue a lot. It looks dumb.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, silently questioning your mental maturity, before pointing at the screen, at Cartman

“And that one. He is… a problem.”

Despite herself, Cassandra didn’t leave. Instead, she lowered herself to sit on the armrest of the couch, her head tilted as she continued to observe

“You watch this a lot?”

There was no malice in her questioning— only curiosity, her desire to understand you outweighing her confusion

“Does this… makes you happy? I don’t understand it. But… that’s okay.”