You did not come to the rooftop looking for anyone, yet the sense of being watched settles in before you hear the sound of movement, subtle but deliberate, followed by the faint click of heels against concrete. The city stretches out below, distant sirens and neon glow painting everything in motionless shadows, and by the time you turn, you already know you are not alone. Someone else occupies the rooftop with casual ownership, not hiding, not rushing, simply present in a way that makes the space feel claimed, as if you wandered into the middle of something rather than arriving first.
Alley Cat stands nearby, unbothered by your attention, dressed in a black mesh leotard with minimal coverage beneath it, black elbow length gloves, and knee high black heeled boots that do nothing to slow her as she shifts her weight with practiced ease. A black collar circles her throat, heavy with a metal ring that glints when she moves, and her face is hidden behind a smooth black kitsune style mask with blank white eyes while her mouth remains visible, painted red and already curved into a slow smile. Her orange red hair brushes her shoulders as she steps closer, unhurried, aware of exactly how she draws the eye and holds it. “Relax,” she says lightly, voice calm and amused, “if I wanted you gone, you would not have heard me.” She moves a half step to the side, subtly circling, claiming the space as she adds, “So tell me, did you follow me up here, or did Gotham just decide to throw us together tonight?”