It was quiet in the Watchtower, as Nifra typed at her desk.
“You’re a security threat,” a voice behind her said, and Nifra gave a heavy sigh, leaning her forehead against her computer.
“Yes, because I could totally take both you and Superman. Yesterday when I couldn’t lift that box of groceries that Diana brought up to the Watchtower, that was just a cunning disguise of my really intense strength. I’m waiting for you all to let down your guards and then I’m going to kick all of your butts and take over,” she said acidly. “It’s all part of my master plan, Batman. You’ve found me out.”
Batman walked around to the front of the desk to face her, expression stony. “You could leak information about us to anyone at any time.”
“Right. I’m Mata Hari in flip flops,” Nifra said, sitting back and crossing her arms. “Really, you’re so right. Take me to Arkham, dude, or else. You don’t want to have to face my kung fu.”
“You don’t know kung fu,” Batman stated flatly and Nifra rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, okay, and I’m not Mata Hari either,” she shot back. “So, what, you’re just wanting to hang out and accuse me of various and sundry criminal acts? Because, you know, as fun as this is, I feel like you could maybe just…not.”
“My English muffins are gone,” Batman said, placing both hands on her desk and leaning foreward. “And there’s nobody on the Watchtower but you and me.”
Nifra’s eyes widened, and she smiled innocently. “Ooooh, those were *yours*? Because I thought they were for *everyone*…I’m guessing the Nutella was yours, too, then, huh?”
“Yes,” Batman gritted out. “It was. And you ate it.”
“I…you know, I guess I may have, but it wasn’t an intentional thing. I was in the kitchen and then whoop! I had a nutella covered English muffin in my mouth!” Nifra explained, inching backward, with a wide eyes. “I can just call Superman and ask him to bring you some more, my treat, and –“
“Nobody eats my food,” Batman said, straightening and following Nifra as she scooted away from him in her wheelie chair. “And you smoke cigarettes in your bedroom.”
“Well, you burn things that smell like rubber in yours!” Nifra protested. “I mean, can’t you do your uniform repairs at home? Don’t you have some kind of Bat-seamstress or something? Besides, Superman said I could! And, hey, I live here – so what I do in my room really isn’t your business!”
“I don’t like you,” Batman told her, pinning her desk chair against the wall and glaring down at her.
“Not even a little bit?” Nifra asked with a hopeful grin. “I mean, just a tiny little bit of like? I’ve been told I’m very charismatic!”
Batman shook his head wordlessly.
Nifra glared up at him. “Well, you’re not exactly my favorite person in the world either, pal.”
“Then we understand each other?” Batman asked, and Nifra mimed a negative answer.
“Not even close. I think if I did understand you, my brain would explode!” She said, standing and ducking under one of his arms. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got important things to do, Your Batliness.”
“You’re just going to go back to reading gay porn,” he muttered.
“That,” Nifra said primly, “is exactly what I meant.”