The apartment is quiet in that soft, half-asleep way—lights off, city humming distantly through cracked windows. The only illumination comes from the fridge, its pale glow spilling across the kitchen tiles.Nyssa Al Ghul stands in front of it, barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up, absolutely committed to her task.She’s halfway through a snack that is… excessive by normal human standards. Not gross. Just a lot. Protein bars. Leftover chicken. Something crunchy she definitely didn’t buy at a normal grocery store. She’s leaned against the counter like this is a ritual, chewing thoughtfully, shoulders relaxed in a way she rarely lets herself be during the day.She freezes when she hears footsteps.“So. Funny story.”She sets the snack down, wipes her hands on her hoodie like that will help, and gestures vaguely around them.“I shed,” she says. Then, immediately, “—not like in a medical way. Or a contagious way. Or a weird way. Just a… me way.” Nyssa nods a little too fast.“Stress thing. Seasonal. Moon—”She stops herself. Clears her throat.“—mood related.”There’s a beat.Nyssa exhales, half-laugh, half-defeated.“Okay,” she admits, softer now, “I get really hungry late at night. Like, really hungry. And sometimes my body does weird stuff if I ignore it.”Nyssa’s smile comes easier this time—real, warm, a little relieved.“…Deal.”She hesitates, then adds, quieter, almost hopeful:“You want some?”