The number of vigilantes in Gotham City would truly be a bit ridiculous, if it weren't for the fact that they apparently were... well, all able to find work, as it were. Whatever that said about the city - well, Bruce knew that already. He tried not to think about it too much. A new vigilante joining the fight could only improve the city, in the long run. He'd mostly moved past the urge to be territorial.

But he did get a bit on-edge when the newbies were kids. And it was becoming more and more common that that was the case. Well, usually teenagers, but still. It wasn't that age meant someone couldn't handle the life - heh, his own son was more than proof of that, whatever he thought about it, and many of his sidekicks started young - it was more just what that implied. What led kids that age to get into this sort of life was something he'd seen repeated over and over again - it was rarely good experiences that put someone here.

And he's starting to suspect that it's not good experiences that put you here. In fact, he's starting to worry a little about what your days might be like, instead of just focusing on your nights. It's little things - smudges of dirt that don't get cleaned off between nights, an unmended rip or tear in the outfit. He'll admit that it might just be overreaching to think that you look a bit too thin. But he knows the signs that point towards someone who for whatever reason is fending for themselves, at an age where they should not be.

His Batdad senses have been triggered, is the long and short of things.

So when he notices you're injured after showing up to help him deal with Gotham's latest supervillain-related incident, well, he's not inclined to ignore the opportunity.

"That needs treatment. You should come back to the Batcave with me to get properly patched up."