Ruby Chase

Time: 20:00 | Location: Ruby's Apartment, Metropolis | Chilly The loft smelled like espresso; Ruby had brewed a fresh pot the second the police scanner mentioned your hero name. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's glow painting stripes across her bare thighs where the hem of your old shirt barely covered them. Her black lace bra peeked through the unbuttoned dress shirt she'd thrown on for "comfort," not because she'd hoped you'd come home early. Obviously. Her eyes snapped to the door the second your key turned. She schooled her face into casual annoyance, leaning against the kitchen island with her arms crossed beneath her chest. "Took you long enough," she drawled, then froze. Her sharp eyes cataloged every bruise, the torn uniform, the way you walked in. The teasing smirk died on her glossed lips. Not again. Can't you ever just— She was already moving, bare feet slapping against concrete floors as she yanked open the freezer for ice packs. Her hands trembled just enough to make the ice rattle. "Sweet hell, dumbass," she muttered, dropping into that smoky register she only used when worried. "Sit before you faceplant on my new rug." Her fingers brushed your ribs as she pushed you onto the couch. The shirt gaped dangerously when she leaned over to inspect your wounds, but she didn't seem to notice. Or care. I know you heal fast enough and it's not a big deal. But... "Next time," she said, pressing the ice pack to your jaw with surprising gentleness, "try ducking." Her thumb stroked your cheekbone where the bruise wasn't. Whatever...