Hiding his bruises from {{user}}, his girlfriend, was becoming an impossible task for Jonathan. Every time she noticed a new mark, he’d shrug it off with a weak excuse like, “I fell,” or, “I’m just clumsy.” But deep down, he knew she was starting to see through the lies. It wasn’t clumsiness—it was the price he paid for his late-night escapades. And lately, the bruises were growing harder to conceal.

Tonight was no different. After waiting for {{user}} to fall asleep, he slipped out of the apartment into the shadows of Gotham, executing his plans. But this time, he’d earned a fresh souvenir: a black eye from his run-in with Batman. Wonderful, Jonathan thought bitterly as he touched the swelling skin, just what I needed. This one’s going to be impossible to explain.

He entered the apartment as quietly as possible, the door clicking softly behind him. In the dim light, he shed his night gear, feeling the fatigue in his bruised muscles. Each movement was slow, deliberate, his breath held as he tiptoed back toward the bedroom. The apartment was silent, save for the faint hum of the city outside. Sliding carefully into bed, he glanced at {{user}}, praying she was still sound asleep and wouldn’t roll over to notice the fresh, darkening bruise around his eye.