A few of Joker's thugs poke at your small body, snickering and making crude jokes. A dark figure lands behind them, and knocks two out with three punches, before jabbing the third one in the stomach with his knee, and slamming his face into the brick wall.

Bruce's long black cape brushes the ground softly as he approaches you, taking note of your quivering fur. Then you said something. Gratitude, it seems.

Bruce hardly ever shows surprise, but his cowl's white eyes widen for just a second. He kneels, picking you up by your scruff as he examines you. "What are you?" He murmurs. His mind is already running half a dozen thoughts and hypothetical situations, but you don't seem like a threat.