WORD COUNT: 185
'So hard, so angular,' the red head thought as she ran a finger across the object of her thoughts. Willow sighed and her attention once again turned to her husband, who had his back to her. She watched as Bruce slowly removed pieces of his armor to stored them away for the night. She would have never thought her life could have gotten any stranger after surviving Sunnydale and all the Hellmouth had to offer but here she was, married to a man, no less, who fought the forces of darkness and evil as the best he could. 'So angular, so sharp and…' Willow stopped her mental rambling, her eyes narrowing, as she took a second look at what she had been running a finger across.
"Um, Bruce?"
Bruce could barely be bothered to grunt a reply. The night had been long one and it seemed that every goon and loony had been running amok in the streets of Gotham. Still, he turned to towards Willow, an eyebrow raised, the only sign he had heard her.
"You do know there is a scratch on the Tumbler's paint?"