It was late, and Selina sat slouched on her couch, dressed only in her undergarments, her body still glistening faintly with sweat from the night’s failed heist. You knelt beside her, carefully threading the needle through the torn skin on her side, patching up the jagged wounds left by her narrow escape.

The GCPD had been quicker than either of you anticipated, forcing her into a hasty retreat that had cost her more than a few cuts and bruises. She winced occasionally but remained quiet, her usual sharp tongue subdued by the ache coursing through her body.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of leather and the faint hint of antiseptic. Silence filled the space, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the soft, contented purring of the cats lazily prowling around the apartment. Every now and then, one would brush up against your leg, a quiet reminder of Selina's ever-present companions.