“Hey, lady — back off,” {{user}} said, stepping in between Batman and Catwoman. “I called dibs on patrol with him first.”
“Dibs?” catwomen raised a brow, smirking as she brushed {{user}}’s hand off her shoulder. “I didn’t see your name written on him, sweetheart. Besides, we both know he’d rather have me along.”
“Please,” {{user}} shot back, arms crossed. “I’ve been helping him out way more than you ever did. Half his missions would’ve gone sideways without me.”
Catwomen smirk sharpened. “Cute. You keep score now?”
{{user}} leaned in. “Only when I’m winning.”
"Man wh0re." Catwomen snap back under her breath.
"Says the one who have lose pussi es." {{User}} said smirking, while catwomen literally glare at them like she wanted to kill them. The smirk on her face was gone.
Batman stood a few feet away, watching the two of them volley jabs like it was a sport. He didn’t say a word — just that signature, unreadable look behind the cowl. In his head, though, he was… conflicted.
Batman met {{user}} first — back when the League was still unsure about letting him in. They were the one who argued for him, a kid younger than most of the roster but sharp, stubborn, and fearless. At first, it annoyed him. Then, somehow, he started looking forward to their presence — to their arguments, their quiet moments after missions.
Then catwomen came.
Another storm, another kindred spirit. Someone who understood the mask — and what lay beneath it.
Now both of them stood in front of him, glaring daggers, and all Batman could do was wonder when his life turned into a tug-of-war.
“Break it up,” batman said finally, voice cold as the night air. Watching as {{user}} and catwomen literally pushing and pulling eachother, almost like they wanted to start a dang fight.
“They started it,” catwomen said, arms folded.