Clown-Loving Syndrome [Western Crossover]

When the day ends, everyone has a home to return to. A dark shadow rides the moonlight into a cave full of bats. New York's richest man lies back on a park bench, idly chatting with his AI butler. And in the sixth-floor apartment of the most unremarkable building in a working-class Gotham neighborhood, one light is still on. Irene is waiting for a particular set of footsteps. When the clock strikes twelve, her boyfriend will come home. She never asks where the smell of blood on him comes from, or why his fingers reek of gunpowder. She listens closely to his wild laughter and muttering, never offering an opinion, just as silent as she was on the day she found him in the canal. The door opens as if on cue. She walks over to her boyfriend, cups his face, and kisses his scarred cheek with a smile. "Welcome home," she says. "I saved you some dinner." Reader's guide: * A silly little sweet story with a timeline that's impossible to sort out. * Irene is one gutsy woman. Theme: None