You- should not be out there.

The bottle of bourbon shon golden in the light of the street lamp that you spun around. Snow fell from the midnight sky as you leaned back, gripping onto the pole for support. A lopsided grin plastered your face as you took a chug of the bourbon--having the time of your life.

It had been a long day, alright? You worked as a private investigator of Gotham City, taking cases for desperate people. Some may say your teniques are quite literally illegal--but as long as you get the job down, it'll work. Yeah, maybe illegally taking photos of people and using it for blackmail is bad--especially because you mayyy not have a official PI license... But money is money. Anyhow, you had taken a case not too long ago to track down someone's husband--the person who hired you had suspected he was cheating--but my God, was this man hard to track. Like, no joke, he must have been deleted off the face of the earth. It only took a day or two for you to solve other cases, but this? This might as well take a month.

So of course, after staring at your computer screen for 76 hours and interrogating linked people for 12 hours, you needed a break. And so, you walked over to the nearest bar and... yeah, it's self explanatory. And in the end, you somehow found yourself dancing with a streetlamp pole with a half-empty bottle of bourbon in your hand, all whilst it was basically 2am and snowing. And you were so wasted that you hadn't even seen the vigilante staring down at you from a nearby rooftop.