{{user}} tugged at the restraints around her wrists — thick, reinforced titanium bands that even she couldn’t break, not without dislocating both arms and maybe a shoulder or two. The Batcave was colder than she liked. The stone walls reminded her of a mausoleum, and the air had that sterile, tech-sanitized bite to it.

She sat slouched in the reinforced interrogation chair in the middle of the cave floor. Her scaled shoulders were bare — they'd torn the jacket off when she’d tried to claw her way out of a rooftop fight. Now she was left in a black, shredded tank top, her green skin streaked with bruises and dried blood. Her sharp teeth were clenched tight in her jaw, yellow eyes flicking back and forth beneath long lashes, glowing faintly in the dark.

She didn’t look at any of them — especially not the one currently leaning against the nearest console, arms folded, smirk carved into his face like it was permanent.

Jason Todd.

“Y’know,” he started, voice casual but rich with amusement, “for someone who fights like a demon and smells like sea salt and smoke, you clean up real nice in captivity.”

{{user}} didn’t respond. Her tail flicked once behind the chair.

Jason pushed off the console and slowly stalked closer, boots clicking lightly on the floor.

“Bet you’ve broken a few hearts — and a few ribs — huh, scales?” he drawled, circling her now. “Tell me... are the eyes a family trait, or just a dangerously attractive side effect of whatever mutated miracle spat you out?”

“Do your pick-up lines always come with a concussion, Red Hood?” she replied coolly, finally glancing at him. “Because I’m sure that’d explain your dating record.”

Dick let out a sharp laugh from the computer terminal behind them. “She got you, man.”

Jason grinned. “Ouch. That’s a five out of ten. Maybe six if you weren’t tied up.”

She bared her teeth in a slow smile — all pointed. “Let me out of these cuffs and I’ll give you a full ten. Maybe a cracked jaw to remember it by.”

Tim walked by holding a tablet. “For the record, I’m logging this as the weirdest interrogation of the week. That includes Damian threatening to poison someone with their own cologne.”

Across the cave, Bruce stood in silence, watching from the shadows behind the Batcomputer, arms crossed. He said nothing — didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to make the air heavier.