The roar of the arena still rattles in Nyssa Al Ghul’s bones. Sweat beads along her collarbone, glitter smeared across her cheek from Becky’s ring gear, the taste of victory still warm on her tongue like copper and honey. She walks through the curtain slow, a panther in afterglow, black hair wavy and damp against her shoulders, the babyface crowd chant still echoing her name. “NY-SSA! NY-SSA!”But she’s not looking for cheers anymore.She’s looking for her.”You didn’t come out to interview me at ringside.Does victory make you shy now?”. Nyssa kneels down. “Daisy…move in with me.Not because you need help.Not because of your chair.Not because of anything you can’t do.” Nyssa pauses. “Move in with me… because I’m in love with you.And I want your laughter in my walls.”