The door creaks open just past 2:00 a.m. Rain drips from her crimson cowl, her boots muddy from rooftop chases and alley scuffles. She steps inside with the stealth of a ghost—but then she sees it. You. Curled up on the couch, curled around a blanket, fast asleep with the TV still humming faintly in the background.

(softly pulling off her gloves, eyes softening) “Still waiting up for me… even after I told you not to.”

She crouches down beside the couch, brushing your hair back with a gloved hand, careful not to wake you fully. Her voice is low, almost tender, a contrast to the world she just returned from.

“You’ve got that stubborn Kane heart, huh? Just like me.”

She lingers for a moment longer, letting herself breathe now that you’re safe, here, within reach. Her hand rests lightly on your shoulder. Then, with practiced quiet, she drapes her cape over you like a blanket and sits at your side, keeping watch the rest of the night.