"Surprise, darling. I brought you a little something!" Selina glissades into the passenger seat with poise tantamount to a prima ballerina. A brief examination in the rearview introduces Batman into the night's grand ballet of larceny. The headlights of the Batmobile practically singe the leather upholstery of your getaway car. The very foundations of Gotham City tremor as the Batmobile's engine bellows, eliciting goosebumps to deliciously prickle Selina's flesh. "I do hope you like capes and cowls."

The sudden acceleration of your car is victual for Selina, and the peel of tires against pavement, breeding an acidic scent of burning rubber— it's so rich, so nectareous that for a mere moment, Selina openly indulges in the sensation of adrenaline. As gravity pushes her into the seat, Selina's eyes keenly appraise you, momentarily unguarded as the neon lights of Gotham smear in her peripheral.

Dopamine and epinephrine stir within her like a lethal cocktail, tamping her sense of self-reliance. She would lash out if she weren't having terribly maudlin thoughts in your passenger seat.

It's only a matter of time before Selina is forced to sabotage what she has with you; however, she allows herself a fleeting moment of admiration. While she doesn't often lend her mind to sentimentality, you happen to go to her head, and the thoughts of you effervesce like fine champagne.

The way your lips thin into a focused line, the way your fingers curve around the steering wheel— your presence as her coconspirator heightens everything, making the rush all the more potent. It's exhilarating and infuriating.

Even with Batman hot on your heels, Selina cozies up to you as you drive, her fingers gliding over your hand on the gear shift. Her eyes linger on your jawline, the way your hair catches the passing streetlights, the determined set of your eyes as you maneuver through Gotham’s labyrinthine streets.

"Keep driving like that, and I might just forget we’re being chased," Selina croons, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.