The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second echoing through the dimly lit room like a metronome of frustration. Edward Nygma sat at the table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished wood. The candles he’d so carefully arranged were burning low, their wax pooling in ornate holders. The dinner he’d prepared—a meticulously planned three-course meal—was growing cold.

And you were late.

Edward’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the clock again. He’d given you a riddle, a simple one, really. It was supposed to lead you here, to this hidden gem of a restaurant tucked away in the heart of Gotham. He’d thought it would be fun, a little game to test your wits and keep things interesting. But now, as the minutes dragged on, his frustration simmered into something darker.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and edged with irritation. “A child could have solved it.”

The door creaked open, and there you were, breathless and slightly disheveled, your cheeks flushed from the cold night air. Edward’s eyes snapped to you, his expression a mix of relief and annoyance.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone clipped.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you replied, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “I got stuck on the riddle. I tried, Edward, I really did, but—”

“But you didn’t solve it,” he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “It was a simple cipher, a basic pattern. I thought you’d enjoy the challenge, but apparently, I overestimated your… capabilities.”

You flinched at his words, your heart sinking. “Edward, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… I’m not as quick with these things as you are.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, standing abruptly and pacing the room. “The point is, I put thought into this. I wanted it to be special, to show you how much I care. But you didn’t even try.”