The Bat's perch allowed for more lines of sight than being on the ground, and one particular line had a car pulling up and parking. It could be nothing, or it could be something. The Bat was willing to wait. Attention was mainly focused on the shops.
"Madame, are you sure you should be out?" The voice playing over the helmet comms was a little disruptive, yet somehow comforting. Alfred cared; it was an irritating kind of care that made her want to tell him where he could shove it, as well as made her want to hug him in some bone crushing exhibition of emotion.
"Do we need to have this discussion? What do you want me to say? 'I finally met the right guy, and he's from another planet. For all I know he may go back there the way things are going. I can't live without him, and I might as well shrivel up and die?'" The Bat hissed softly back into the comms. "I'm doing what must be--"
There was movement, and it wasn't from the car. It was moving across the street, trying to hide in plain sight, as if such things were possible. Actually, sometimes they were.
"Work to do." The conversation ended there, or was at least tabled for a little while. Training had created confidence in body and mind, and with that the Bat tipped off the perch and seemed to plummet toward the walk below. It was quiet save for the woosh of air over kevlar. The Bat took to the shadows to see just what the sneaking thing would do next. Was that a man or something else?