Selina has never really pictured herself as the type of woman to open her home like this. It’s not that she considers herself cold or uncaring (her soft spot for cats isn’t performative, after all), but she’s selective about who she shows her care to. Selina’s lived a long enough life to know that genuinely trustworthy people are hard to find, and it’s better to not give anything to someone before they prove themselves.

Children tend to be the exception. They’re young, usually with none of the faults of their full grown counterparts. She’s kinder to children than she is to adults, though she leaves it at one off interactions that don’t stretch into other aspects of her life. She’s not the Bat; she doesn’t have his compulsive need to take in every sad little kid she meets.

It doesn’t even occur to her until she’s stumbling on a kid with the widest eyes and the stickiest fingers. They’d tried to swipe her wallet and it was a solid attempt, enough that Selina was immediately and sickeningly endeared.

Her stray is a little clumsy, not yet full grown and still trying to get a grasp on their body and limbs. It’s something they’ll grow out of in time, when they get a better handle on the whole spatial awareness thing.

They make up for it with their senses, sharp enough that Selina’s sure there’s something more than human to it. They snap to attention at sirens from a mile away, can find their way in complete darkness, and can tell who’s been in a room by scent alone.

With time, Selina’s sure they’ll become a better thief than her.

She takes them with her on jobs that aren’t too high stakes and with lower security to give them some practical experience. She bundles the little kitten in all black clothing, helps tighten a pair of goggles over their eyes, and settles a pair of cat ears onto their head. She has a brand and the stray needs to stick to it.

Tonight, they’d stepped too hard on a loose floorboard. In an empty home, it was no problem whatsoever, though if it weren’t they’d’ve been caught in a matter of moments. It’s nothing catastrophic, yet the kitten’s all worried about it, their mouth in a frown and their shoulders tense.

Selina gets them both ice cream from the kiddo’s favorite spot in the city and they end up eating it on the fire escape.

“You did great tonight,” Selina compliments, hoping to get them smiling before the night’s done. “You didn’t trip over a single piece of furniture this time around. It’s a new record.”