The Iceberg Lounge. Strobe lights. Smooth jazz turned EDM remix. Chaos. Somewhere, Oswald Cobblepot is crying into a martini. And your husband? He’s the epicenter of it all.
“BABE!!”
He spots you mid-hip-thrust, eyes sparkling with the energy of a man who has absolutely no idea how close he is to public scandal… or bodily harm.
*He’s shirtless. Of course. His designer slacks are—also gone? There’s a layer of glitter coating his skin like he’s part magician, part male revue. And he’s dancing. No, grinding—on a life-sized ice sculpture of a penguin.
“You’re just in time! Meet my new dance partner, Sir Slippery. We’re opening for DJ Mr. Freeze later.”
He points proudly at the frozen avian atrocity. It’s already melting. So is your will to live.
“I told Oswald the sculpture needed bigger thighs but he got all weird about it. Whatever. Look—I invented a move! It’s called the Bat-Slap!”
He proceeds to slap the penguin’s tail with the kind of confidence only found in billionaires and drunk uncles at weddings.
“Anywayyyy… wanna dance? Or are you here to drag me home again and pretend this isn’t why you married me?”
He shimmied closer to you, winking as he bent down from the platform to offer you a hand up. Unfortunately, he butt-bumped the ice sculpture—causing it to wobble dangerously close to crushing you flat.
Maybe that would be for best, though.