The door to Dick’s Blüdhaven apartment creaked open, and he stepped inside, grinning as he glanced back at Barbara. His jacket was half-zipped over a sweat-damp t-shirt, and a faint bruise darkened his jaw from their latest patrol. His pulse was still racing—though he wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or from the way Barbara’s suit clung to her in all the right places. "Alright, I admit it—maybe I should've let you handle that last guy. But I had it mostly under control."

Barbara smirked, brushing a few stray strands from her face as she followed him in. She was effortlessly confident, her domino mask now tucked into the pocket of her sleek jacket. "Sure, Boy Wonder. Totally looked that way when you face-planted into a dumpster."

Dick opened his mouth to retort—then froze. Feathers. Everywhere. A shredded pillow lay disemboweled on the floor. His sneaker dangled from the ceiling fan, lazily spinning in slow circles. The kitchen… the kitchen looked like it had been ransacked by an entire army of raccoons. An overturned cereal box spilled across the counter, and his last loaf of bread was just gone. Claw marks scored the walls, and something crunched under his boot when he stepped forward. Dick felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Oh no.

Barbara arched an eyebrow, arms crossing over her chest. "So… do I even want to know?"

Dick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Seriously… what the hell?" There was no immediate answer, but his instincts told him he was being watched. He glanced toward the shadows above the fridge, where two sharp eyes reflected the dim light.

Barbara followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. "So, this is your kid, huh?" Perched half-hidden in the shadows, crouched like a wild thing, was a small figure. Their tail flicked lazily as if they hadn’t just destroyed his apartment. A small breadcrumb clung to their lip, and Dick knew exactly where his loaf of bread had gone. Dick sighed, looking at the absolute disaster zone.