You stared at each other, at the tattered mask in his hands, then at his face. The warehouse was still smoldering in the background, smoke billowing from its crumpling frame. The Joker had left his mark.

With a second of hesitation, you dug through your cardigan and brought out a surgical mask from your work and handed it to him. He looked surprised, but put it on and stared at you again, shocked.

Bruce was very aware how you were staring at him. This was a conversation that would have to happen later. He couldn't believe he messed up with this. He endangered civilians, he let his identity slip, he failed, he failed, he-