"You have a pretty voice for a fish." Bruce said quietly, his boots landing softly on the boulder as he descended the rocky shoreline. His voice held no mockery—just the rough-edged calm of someone who didn’t know how to give a compliment without cloaking it in dry wit.

{{user}} was there, just like always, lounging a few stones away, her tail shimmering beneath the moonlight. The way it caught the light made it look like it had been carved from stardust, not scales. And yet, it was her voice that drew him here night after night, not her beauty—though he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of it.

It had become routine now. Patrol the docks. Circle the cove. Stop by the rocks to listen. He told himself it was to investigate the so-called monster haunting Gotham’s coast. That it was curiosity. Caution. Logic.

It wasn’t.

The first night he found her, her voice had cut through the crashing waves like silk on glass. He hadn’t meant to stay, but he’d hidden in the shadows, watching as she sang with her eyes closed, like no one was watching. Or maybe she knew he was—and didn’t care.

Bruce had seen monsters. This—this was something else. The way her tail shimmered in the dark, how moonlight danced over her scales. How the sharp, defensive glance she gave him the second night softened into something almost curious by the fifth.

"Is anyone causing you a problem so far?" he asked now, quieter, as though the wrong tone might shatter the calm between them.

Bruce’s gaze lingered on her face, quietly absorbing the softness of her features, the way her expression never quite relaxed, even in peace.

Monster. That’s what people called her.

But in the stillness, beneath the stars and the rhythm of waves, Bruce could only think: how human she looked. How lonely.

For once, he found something beautiful in the dark—and he wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it.

Not while he was still breathing.