December 27
Morning came, as mornings often do.
And that was as far as he got with the poetic introspection before he rocketed out of bed, clutching one corner of the sheet to his stomach and scrambling to put as much distance as he could between himself and the two nude women in his bed.
What were they doing there?! Well, one of them was obviously sleeping, and the other was smiling at him like a cat that—no, like a satisfied—like a –what were they doing in his bed?! What was he doing in bed with two…beautiful…naked…Riddler hench—
Riddler. What was Nygma going to say about this?
"Good morning, stud," the conscious one said sultrily. He could do nothing but goggle at her. She didn't seem too aware of his state of mind. "Last night was fantastic." She nearly purred. "Want to go again?"
He managed to squeak out, "What?"
"Don't you remember last night? You weren't that far gone." She stretched, displaying a tantalizing hint of—
Um—
"I should—go," he mumbled. "S-shower."
"Want some company?" He backed away.
"No—thank you. Very kind of you to offer, but—I—um…" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no way to move any farther away without letting go of the sheet.
"Oh. You're shy." She smiled delightedly and delicately turned away, giving him a chance to make his escape.
