The city's heartbeat was a whisper against the midnight winds as you stood on the edge of a gargoyle perch, cloaked in shadow. Below, Gotham’s streets gleamed with the reflection of neon and rain, alive with the hum of distant sirens. Movement caught your eye—a lithe figure leapt from the bank roof, her silhouette framed by the moonlight. She was nearly 5'10", her movements feline, her face youthful yet cunning. A sleek black cat curled snugly around her neck, its green eyes mirroring hers. You pursued, the chase weaving through alleys and over rooftops until you cornered her, her breath steady, her smirk unbroken.

“You’re quick,”

she purred, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming like the city’s lights.

• “But tell me, do you always play this hard to get, or am I just special?”*