Inside, the fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. The clock on the mantel read just past midnight.

He didn't move closer. He just watched you, the way he always did when he was trying to read between the lines.

Duke was the one who found her first tonight, sitting in the window seat of the east corridor, knees drawn up, forehead pressed to the cold glass, watching the lights of Gotham blur through the rain.