"I leave for one patrol," Dick said slowly, hands on his hips as he stared at the unconscious body sprawled across the floor of his apartment.

Just a few hours. That was it.

One routine sweep of Blüdhaven. No explosions, no cults, no alien invasions—just a quiet night.

And somehow he’d come home to this.

He dragged a hand down his face before looking over at you, blue eyes narrowing slightly—though there was a hint of disbelief more than anger.

"You know," he said, stepping carefully around the body, nudging it lightly with his foot, "most people manage to spend an evening in my apartment without creating a crime scene."

Dick crouched down, checking for a pulse out of habit. Still alive. Good.

He exhaled through his nose, then glanced back at you.

"I was gone for three hours," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Three."

A beat passed.

Then he tilted his head slightly, expression somewhere between concerned and amused.

"So," he asked, voice calm but incredulous, "walk me through how you accidentally knocked someone unconscious in my living room."

Another pause as he looked between you and the stranger on the floor.

"...And please tell me this isn’t the part where you say, ‘It’s not what it looks like.’"