The night was the kind of city cold that crept beneath even the thickest kevlar, a heavy fog weaving through the city's alleys like a living thing. You and Bats had been chasing leads for hours — questions asked, evidence collected — and now, finally, you had one of the suspects cornered in an abandoned warehouse on the Narrows.

The man wasn’t exactly nervous, more smug than anything, which was impressive considering the Bat’s looming silhouette only a few feet away. “You’re a lot prettier up close, you know that?” he said with a grin, eyes sweeping over you like he’d already forgotten where he was. “Maybe I’ll talk… if you give me your number.”

You barely had time to roll your eyes before a gloved hand found your wrist — firm, controlled — and gently but decisively guided you back. “We’re done here,” Bats said, voice low and unreadable. He didn’t even look at the man again as he led you out of the building, cape trailing behind him in a dark sweep.

The walk back to the car was quiet, save for the sound of your boots against the pavement. Once you were both inside and the engine hummed to life.