3 for 3

3rd pov

What does one do after a situation like that?

For Sophia Dé Leon, the answer was simple—deflect.

And what better way to do that than by throwing out an insult?

She cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and looked the man dead in the eye.

"Your face looks punchable. Should we test the theory?"

Time froze.

Alessandra and Marianna gasped in unison, their heads snapping toward their youngest sister with wide, horrified eyes.

The crowd that had gathered moments ago after her dramatic purse-thief takedown collectively inhaled, waiting to see how this would unfold.

And the man? Oh, the poor man. He simply blinked at her in sheer disbelief.

Because surely, this tiny, fiery woman did not just say that.

But before he could recover from his shock—before his brain could even process what was happening—

Sophia decided to put her theory to the test.

And she did so by punching him right in the jaw.

Right. In. The. Jaw.

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The moment her fist connected with his face, a wave of silence swept through the terminal.

Sophia stood frozen, fist still clenched, heartbeat slamming against her ribcage.

She had just punched the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on.

The very same man who had, just minutes ago, carried her like a damn sack of potatoes to stop her from continuing her rant against the pickpocket.

The same man had a jawline that probably belonged in a Renaissance painting but now had the beginnings of a bruised mark forming on it.

He staggered back slightly, blinking at her, looking more stunned than hurt.

Alessandra slapped a hand over her mouth. Marianna looked between the two, eyes darting in disbelief.

"Holy. Shit."

The bystanders, who had already witnessed Sophia tackle a thief to the ground, now whispered excitedly amongst themselves. Phones were out. Cameras were rolling.

Oh, God. This was going to be on the internet.

Sophia's stomach dropped.

Oh my God. I just assaulted a man in front of dozens of witnesses.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Words failed her.

Finally, in a desperate attempt to fix what had just happened, she blurted, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I have no idea where that came from!"

The man exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his jaw as if testing to see if it was still intact. His striking blue eyes locked onto hers, filled with something between amusement and confusion.

"Really?" His voice was deep and smooth—but with a raspy edge, like someone who hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in years. "Because it looked pretty damn intentional."

His voice sent a shiver down Sophia's spine. And not the bad kind.

Oh, hell no.

She was not about to be attracted to the very man she just punched.

Panic set in. And, because Sophia Dé Leon was nothing if not consistent, she chose the worst possible option:

She grabbed her sisters by the arms and bolted.

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"SOPHIA, WHAT THE HELL?!"

Marianna's voice echoed through the terminal as they sprinted past gates and confused travelers.

"I panicked!" Sophia panted, dragging her sisters along. "I didn't know what to do, and my body just—reacted!"

"Your body reacted by committing assault?!" Alessandra gasped.

"In my defense, his face did look punchable!"

"That's not a defense, you lunatic!" Mari shrieked.

They zigzagged through the airport, dodging a janitor with a mop bucket and a startled flight attendant.

"I swear to God," Mari huffed, "if we get arrested on our first day in Gotham—"

"Not my fault!" Sophia argued. "Why did he look so—so smug?! Like he was enjoying my suffering! And he manhandled me earlier! That was uncalled for!"

"You were physically assaulting someone when he picked you up!" Ale reminded her.

"Details," Sophia dismissed, waving a hand.

They finally ducked into a small hallway near the restrooms, panting heavily. Sophia pressed her back against the wall, trying to process her life choices.

Mari braced her hands on her knees, sucking in air. "Soph. I'm begging you. Explain why you just punched that man."

Sophia groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. "I felt cornered! I was embarrassed, okay? And my brain was like, 'Let's distract everyone from the fact that a hot man just held you like a misbehaving kitten!' And then—" She flung her arms out wildly. "Violence!"

Ale wiped a tear from her eye, laughing. "I think you broke his brain, honestly."

Mari checked her phone, scrolling. "Oh my God. Someone already posted it."

Sophia whipped around. "WHAT?!"

Mari turned the screen, showing a blurry, mid-punch freeze-frame of Sophia socking the man in the jaw.

The caption?

'Welcome to Gotham, lady. You'll fit right in. 🤣 #AirportChaos'

Ale doubled over laughing. "You're going viral, Soph."

Sophia let out a high-pitched, strangled sound of despair. "THIS IS MY WORST NIGHTMARE."

Mari snickered. "On the bright side, at least you're anonymous—"

Sophia whirled toward her, pointing accusingly. "Don't. Say. It."

Mari smirked. "—for now."

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After another five minutes of arguing, they reluctantly made their way back toward where it all went down.

But when they got there—

The man was gone.

Sophia exhaled in relief. "Thank God."

Mari crossed her arms. "You should apologize if you see him again."

Ale grinned. "Oh, you'll see him again."

Sophia frowned. "What makes you so sure?"

Ale wiggled her eyebrows. "Because guys like that? They don't let things go that easily."

Sophia huffed, pushing past her sisters. "Whatever. Let's just go home."

As they walked to the car, Sophia tried to shake off the incident.

But deep down—

A very small part of her was starting to wonder if Ale was right.

And if she did see him again?

Well.

She'd really, really need to work on her impulse control.

...Or maybe not.