By asking McKenna to dance

The moment Velvet Vixen’s gloved hand brushes McKenna’s shoulder, her voice low and teasing—

“Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed on the dance floor… immediately.”

—McKenna gets it.

With only a brief look of cool detachment aimed at the Police Chief, she lets Velvet Vixen guide her across the floor with all the grace of a woman who’s been waiting for this exit for a very long time.

As they step into the center of the ballroom, the lights dim subtly, and a smooth, jazzy tune begins to play. McKenna places one hand at Velvet Vixen’s waist, the other in her gloved palm. They begin to dance—slow, intimate, but far from stiff.

“Thanks for the rescue,” McKenna murmurs, voice just above a whisper.

“Saving damsels in distress is one of the many perks of being a superheroine,” Velvet Vixen replies with a grin, her voice honeyed and suggestive.

McKenna rolls her eyes—but her smile softens, and it stays on her lips even as she tries to hide it.

Then McKenna frowns.

“You’re… a little off-balance.”

“What? No, I—eep!”

Velvet Vixen stumbles slightly, her heel catching a divot in the polished floor. McKenna reacts immediately—steadying her, guiding her hands more firmly into place.

“You’re trying to lead. Let me.”

Velvet Vixen looks up, wide-eyed.

McKenna takes over.

The change is immediate. They begin to move in sync, Velvet Vixen’s clumsy steps smoothed into something fluid and rhythmic by McKenna’s unshakable grace. The detective isn’t just good at taking the lead—she’s effortless.

Velvet Vixen, breathless, lets herself melt into the moment.

The music.

The hands on her waist.

The low murmur of the room fading around her.

For just a moment, she’s not hunting villains. She’s not performing for cameras. She’s just Kendrick, being led across the floor by a woman who doesn’t seem so untouchable anymore.

“You’re… really good at this,” she whispers.

“I don’t do anything halfway,” McKenna murmurs back.