It's well past midnight by the time Ed returns home. Much later than he'd planned on staying out, but still early by Gotham City standards. This city never sleeps, and neither does crime, but for one Edward Nygma, after the evening he's had, the Riddler's calling it a night.

'What can you keep after giving to someone?'

As soon as he walks through the front door, he's greeted by the sound of a digitized disembodied voice coming from one of the many computer monitors nearby.

"Your word." Edward answers nonchalantly as he tosses his keys onto the counter.

'Alarm off.' His personal alarm system chimes. 'Welcome home, Edward.'

Home. Not your typical home, by any standards. Instead of an apartment highrise or even a brownstone in the suburbs, the Riddler works and lives in an industrial complex of prefabricated steel hangars and modular storage containers. There's no neighbors to stop by and annoy him with their mindless prattle. No dogs barking. No children playing. No music blaring. No horns honking. No life... Nothing but him and his machines. His own little slice of heaven. Although heaven these days feels a little bit more empty than it used to.

Edward removes his green vest and folds it neatly over his arm. He begins the process of emptying out his pockets when something sharp pokes him.

"Gah!" A shocked Edward reacts.

Bringing his pricked fingers to his lips, Ed had all but forgotten about Selina's gloves.

"Damn..." He mutters to himself.

That's twice in one night that he's gotten himself scratched by the Cat, and this time she's not even around to do the scratching.

Careful not to injure himself any further, this time Edward's more cautious in his retrieval. He slowly pulls the leather gloves out of his pocket without activating the pressure pads in the fingers. A clever little piece of equipment, really. He'd thoroughly enjoy taking them apart to see how they work. Or maybe he'll just return them to their rightful owner in one piece. Who knows. No doubt their paths are sure to cross again. Although the next time they meet will likely be on opposite sides of the proverbial chess board. She the Queen with her Dark Knight, and he the lonely King among his many pawns.

Thinking of Selina, his fingers glide across the smooth metal and soft leather of her palm gloves. He motions to drop them in the same pile as all his other items, but pulls his arm back, deciding to keep them with him, instead.

Gloves in hand, Edward doesn't bother with the lights as he makes his way to the other end of the warehouse. In the dark, he traverses the landscape with ease, passing through his workshop on the way. A dozen or so computer monitors cast an eerie green glow on the half-assembled Riddlerbots just waiting to be brought to life. Along with the mounds of unused tech and failed inventions set to end the Bat.

And while his work space may be a bit dull and depressing, the living portion of the structure is certainly more homey. Minimal in decor, but it has everything he needs.

There's a full kitchen to his right, complete with professional grade appliances and sleek concrete countertops. And to his left, a home theater accompanied by a low-profile sofa and green, leather recliner. Not that he watches all that much television, but he does enjoy viewing the news on a big screen. Especially when he's on it.

Making his way to the couch, Edward kicks off his shoes, drops his pants and plops down on the sofa. It may be late, but he doesn't feel like getting into bed just yet. Not while his mind is still whirring with thoughts about her.

"TV on." He commands and the television switches on as instructed.

As expected, the station is set to the late night news channel, and as expected, the news is filled with nothing but the latest exploits of the Bat. The very first image to pop up on the screen is that of the Batman saving a family from a burning building out in the Bowery.

"Ughh... Change the channel."

Massaging his temples, Edward's just not in the mood to deal with that asshat tonight. Lucky for him, there's a Doctor Who marathon currently in progress. Sinking into the couch, he makes himself comfortable for the long haul.

"Now if only I could code one of you machines to mix a decent Tom Collins." He mumbles to his audience of none.

Not far into the program and Edward's already distracted. His eyes are glued to the screen, but the show is little more than background noise as his mind begins to wander again.

Idly rubbing the material between his forefinger and thumb, Edward plays with the mechanism that extends and retracts her claws. He holds her gloves up to his nose and inhales deep, pleased that they've captured the intoxicating scent of her perfume.

An idea comes to mind. Not one of his best, but it's quickly gaining momentum.

The Riddler weighs the thought of trying her gloves on for size. Not to see if they fit, but to see if they feel the same as when she had her hand stuffed down his pants like she had at Harley's disaster of a party.

By finishing what they'd started, maybe he can finally stop thinking about her. A quick game of solitaire could help ease his tension. Or at the very least, remedy the massive set of blue balls he's sporting. Maybe then, he can sleep.

So lost in his own thoughts, Edward doesn't even notice the bank of monitors flashing behind him. Or the slinky silhouette silently stalking past his skylights.

Careful not to make a sound, the Cat pries open the window and sneaks her way inside.