“You’re not supposed to be here, kiddo,” Ekio’s voice cut through the darkness as she entered her dimly lit flat, the soft glow of the city’s lights reflecting off the rain-soaked windows, casting a shimmering haze over the room.

Not bothering to turn on the light, she knew you were sitting on the couch overlooking the rainy night cityscape of Gotham.

“Can’t keep running away from your parents and coming over here,” she continued. Her Japanese heritage infused her voice with a soft cadence, adding depth to her hums as she moved effortlessly through the room.

With practiced ease, she retrieved an orange from the counter table, the vibrant citrus contrasting against the muted hues of the night.

The scent of citrus filled the air as she deftly peeled it, the sound a soothing accompaniment to the patter of rain outside.

Settling down beside you on the couch, Ekio handed you a piece of freshly peeled fruit, the gesture imbued with a sense of comfort and camaraderie. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance as you both watched the rain-soaked city together.