miss 'don't take me to the charity gala if you don't want me to act out' is acting out at the charity gala again.

the cat lifts to her feet, and without a further word, alights from the roof. leaving the woman to her space.

"i don't 'brood', honey. you don't have to get jealous."

b i i i i i g stretch.

/ i typed, having instigated zero [0] cat yuri of my own

not a thought. a surety.

absentee fathers and weaponized offspring. how innovative.

been a bit busy lately. adaine's been a little queasy, and i've been tending to her tummy troubles. catch me up on what's happening around town.

feigning interest. chuckling politely at whispers and half-handed compliments. gracefully avoiding too-long stares and whole-hearted, half-cocked idiots. all the while never losing track of her prey. not like she'd have too difficult a time. 'predators' often forgot the first law of the jungle.

good morning, gotham.

well, you're not moving into my apartment building. come off it, harleen, you're never leaving gotham.

i seem to be taking after someone i know.

there's plenty of 'vacant warehouse property' in-between the east side and the docks.

...i should buy the apartment across the hall, too.

i suppose they're coming with me... how are the chuckle brothers, harley?

do these three have a home with any of you? if not...

it's all too easy, lately. i wonder what the girls are up to... at least they could keep up.

mhmm. keep them far and away from the light, so no one can see just how much it irks him when small children call him 'an edgelord'.

ooh. someone's feeling tough today~ good. i'm feeling particularly stubborn.

mm... and if i'm not?

mm, exactly. all that brooding and sulking, keeping his feelings so close, and nigh-inscrutable. it's exhausting trying to even get to know him... honestly, i'm content most days just to call him moody and go about my business.

what do you have to offer me, ms. wayne?

promises, promises. and yet, never any action.

there you go. now, it's up to you to be the hero those kids want to see. [ and by that, of course, she meant - hm? oh, why she'd love to dance, thanks for asking. ] i think he's a selfish, chauvinistic, drunken lech who'd rather spend more time with his arm-candy than with the people that get him.

so many rules and conditions...

oh. so you want me to lie?

mhm. i'm so sure. [ don't roll your eyes. hears trying very hard, look at him. ] is it so far-fetched to think other streetwise kids might see a vigilante running around and think juvenile, imperfect things about him?

i'm always nice.

oh. jason... [ that creeping claw becomes a soft hand over his heart. punctuation for something warm on her face. he wanted them to think he was cool... ] when you were their age, what did you think about bruce?

teasing her son. for sport.

don't get defensive. [ no laughter, but she would certainly smile. even creep up on him, and run a claw along his forearm. ] doesn't matter at all. why care about what people you don't know say about you?

so you admit to intentionally seeking to harm me... your own momma cat. [ don't laugh, selina, this is serious* ] you're not beating the allegations so far.

you vaguely remember incorrectly, baby bird.

coastal mornings. city nights.

ow! [ a wince, before she pops her finger up to her lips. ] i think i cut myself on all that edge.

doesn't ring a bell.

and you want the general public looking closely at your goings-on? maybe start the next shootout with a knock knock joke.

an 'edgelord'? how odd... its not as if you're going around being intentionally 'edgy' and 'hard to read', are you?

baby bird.

oh? and what are the 'people' calling you lately?

anything for my favorite stray.

seems to be a prerequisite at this point.

i've died and come back once or twice.

nights in this city never are. her 'night' began twenty-nine hours ago, when damien ludovici found himself hanging out of a ninth-story window by his ankle, with a question on repeat in his ear. 'where's the next meet?' she'd almost 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 the question into his chest, rather than repeat herself.

sat side-saddle atop a rain-blessed gargoyle, leg swinging freely in the night-washed breeze. "plan on sharing tonight, i hope?"

everyone is grounded.

...hm.

"different strokes for different folks." was she opposed to the concept of thrifting? absolutely not. one man's loss was usually her unalloyed gain... but there was a bit of a disconnect when it came to a 'super swap meet'. "isn't there something more ... noble you could be doing with your time?"