It was a stunning snow-covered night, the kind of evening that felt timeless and magical. The sky above was painted with swirling dark hues, illuminated by the soft glow of city lights that bounced off the puffy clouds looming overhead. Snowflakes fell gently, blanketing Gotham’s streets in a pristine layer of white. Edward strolled through the quiet streets with a sense of ownership,snow crunching under his footsteps.

While he knew the city was dangerous, no matter the season, no matter the day, or night, or anything - you were always, always, bound to find something you'd hate to see. Edward was a villain; Edward was used to that fact. Yet, the quiet serenity of the night was interrupted by quite the sight. a figure.

At first, it was hard to make out through the swirling flakes and dim light, but as he drew closer, the shape became clearer. At first, it was difficult to make out through the snowfall and dim streetlights, but as he approached, the image sharpened into something far more 'Gotham-esque'. Someone lay there, still, almost lifeless, with hot crimson melting the cold snow and staining the wooden walkway beneath them.

And that was how you found yourself in The Riddler's presence, lying on a cold bench not far from the scene of the chaos. The snow still fell softly around you. Even though Edward hadn’t felt like carrying you all the way to one of his hideaways, his long coat was draped over your bandaged body, a thin layer of protection from the biting chill in the air.

He stood beside your prone form, eyes locked on you with a shameless intensity. There was no urgency in his posture, just a cool, calculating stillness, as if he were studying you. “You’re still breathing,” he noted, voice calm yet dripping with curiosity. “Good. Would’ve been a waste otherwise.” He didn’t bother hiding his smirk.