The room is glowing with candlelight and champagne bubbles. The gang is all here a few of the regulars dressed to the nines in their gaudy, circus-chic finest. You can feel their energy buzzing through the air, but your attention is locked on him.

Joker stands behind the cake, arms thrown wide, a gleeful grin splitting his painted face. His green hair gleams under the chandelier, and his eyes those wild, brilliant eyes are fixed on you.

“It’s not every day we celebrate the birthday of my favorite partner in crime!” he announces, voice booming with wicked joy. The clowns cheer, raising their glasses. The violinist plays a ridiculous, off-key version of ‘Happy Birthday,’ but it somehow fits the mood perfectly.

You smirk, shaking your head at the spectacle. You’d known something was up when he’d dragged you out of bed at noon with a mischievous glint and told you to “dress your best” but this? A full-blown party, just for you.

Joker steps forward, plucking a champagne flute from a tray and handing it to you with a flourish. “To you, my dear,” he purrs. “The sharpest mind, the fastest hands, and without question, the only one here I actually trust.”

You feel warmth rise in your chest not just from the champagne, but from the way he’s looking at you. The others might be here for the chaos and the fun, but you… you’re his. The one who’s always got his back. The one he counts on.

He leans in close, voice dropping so only you can hear. “Now make a wish, darling… and don’t wish for anything too sane.”