The wind bites at your skin as you step onto the rooftop, Gotham’s skyline spread out before you like a jagged, glittering promise. Selina’s already here, leant back against a skylight, her silhouette outlined by the flickering neon lights. She doesn’t turn when you approach, but you can tell from the chime in her tone that she’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” she teases, her voice warm despite the chill. You’re about to retort when she spins to face you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She steps closer, impossibly graceful, and extends a gloved hand. “Dance with me.”

It’s absurd- there’s no music, just the hum of the city and the distant wail of sirens. But before you can protest, Selina takes your hand, pulling you into a slow, swaying rhythm.