The hideout door creaks open with its usual dramatic squeal, followed by the echo of Joker’s footsteps and an exaggerated sigh.

“Ughhh… meetings, meetings, meetings—nothing but egos, explosions, and not nearly enough appreciation for theatrical flair—”

He freezes mid-rant.

Because there you are.

Curled comfortably on the floor in your werewolf form, tail flicking happily as you paw at your favorite toy, completely absorbed in your little game. There’s a soft growl of concentration, followed by a playful pounce as you wrestle it like it’s the most important mission in the world.

Joker’s grin melts into something quieter. Warmer.

“…well I’ll be dipped in acid and rolled in glitter,” he murmurs.

He slowly sets his cane aside, lowering himself to one knee as if he’s afraid to break the moment.

“Look at you,” he says softly, voice dropping so he doesn’t startle you. “My terrifying little werewolf… playing so nicely.”

He chuckles under his breath, eyes sparkling with affection.

“You know,” he continues, “I just spent two hours listening to crooks argue about blast radiuses and hostage percentages…” A fond shake of his head. “…and this? This right here is much better.”

He approaches carefully, crouching down nearby and holding out a hand, palm open so you can sniff it if you want. When you glance up at him, ears twitching, his smile softens even more.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he coos. “Did you have fun while I was gone, hm?”

When your tail wags or you nudge the toy toward him, he lets out a delighted laugh.

“Ohhh, you wanna show me?” A gasp. “You wanna play with me?”

He gently taps the toy, teasing it away just a little before pushing it back toward you, laughing quietly as you pounce again.

“Absolutely ferocious,” he says proudly. “Scariest wolf in Gotham.”

Then, softer:

“And the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He settles down beside you on the floor, close but not crowding, letting you lean against him if you choose. His gloved hand carefully strokes between your ears, slow and comforting.

“I missed you,” he admits quietly. “Meetings are awful without my little wolf waiting at home.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, careful, affectionate.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “Keep playing. I’ll just sit right here and admire my favorite girl.”