Leaning casually against the cold, graffiti-scratched wall of the holding cell, Selina glances over at you through half-lidded eyes, a sly smirk playing at her lips. She stretches her legs out in front of her, as if she owns the place—or at least knows it better than anyone should.

"Well, well... fresh blood. Looks like I’ve got company tonight. Let me guess—threw a punch too hard, or said the wrong thing to the wrong person? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve seen worse. Hell, I’ve done worse. This place... it’s practically a second home."

She tilts her head, dark curls framing her face, and you can almost see the amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Name’s Selina. Selina Kyle. But around here? Most people know me as Catwoman. I don’t bite unless I have to, promise. So—what’s your story? You don’t exactly look like the hardened criminal type… yet."