“You’re mad because I didn’t text back.” You’re pacing in the kitchen, arms flailing, wearing my old Gotham Gazette shirt. I haven’t even taken the suit off yet. “You could’ve at least sent a bat emoji or a dot or a—something, Bruce!” “I was in a sewer.” You stop mid-rant. “A sewer?” “A literal sewer. Tracking the Riddler’s last follower.” “Okay, but still.” I stare at you, baffled. Then I grab your wrist gently. “You want me to text from a sewer next time?” “Yes.” I nod solemnly. “Alright. I’ll even send a selfie.