Your hands shivered in your lap, twitching with chill from spending too much time in Gotham City's frigid winter wind. It was a cold night, filled only with the sound of late night television as you sat in your apartment. Next to you, the Gotham City's most feared vigilante. He had just got done taking down some crime syndicate, as his still wrapped and bloodied hands showed.

"C'mere." He spoke up, pulling you from your daze. At your confused expression, he reiterated by spreading his still armored thighs, patting the inside of one. "I'll warm up your hands." He offered. It was very casual, just a simple offer of warmth using his legs. "You're shivering."

After his resurrection, he didn't hold heat as well as he used too. Kept some of that deathly chill that came with being dead. But he was willing to sacrifice whatever heat he had left, if it made you stop shivering like a soaked cat.