If the Bat felt any sort of regret for his actions, he gave no sign of it, and he quite honestly left Iris and the child behind without lingering on what he'd done. The dog was an obstacle, and by his standards he'd actually been quite tame in comparison to past encounters with teeth and fur. He was more annoyed with Selina for daring to come here in the first place, particularly since he doubted her intentions would have proven to be in the boy's best interest, and his bulk filled the doorway for a moment before he stepped forward without the slightest regard for her privacy. He didn't blush when she turned, didn't stammer, because Batman simply didn't do either of those things.
His gaze behind the cowl was cool and dark, with the sort of piercing intensity that caught each scar, every bruise, and the blood beneath her fingernails. It belied no interest or concern, though he might have been hiding the existence of both somewhere beneath it all. "You know what I want," he said, and there was nothing suggestive about it. No, he was angry, cold and sharp, and he gave her a look of warning in response to her mocking of Iris' approach. Only then did he turn to face the other woman and her own steely displeasure, which he absorbed without a flicker of a reaction.
He was the one who gave demands, not the one who took them, and his shadowed expression hardened just as he caught sight of the child, barely present in the background. Gus' tearful visage indicated that he'd made a poor decision in retaliating against the dog, but the Bat was almost as bad with apologies as he was with children. Considering his apparent track record with young boys, he thought it best if Gus kept his distance, and he didn't think himself worthy of being admired regardless. This was who he really was, mask and all, and he understood that it was not very likeable. Batman didn't exist to be popular. He stared for a long moment without blinking, and then inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I regret that we had to meet under these circumstances," he told her, which was probably the closest to an apology she was going to get, at least right then. "They will come back, one way or another." The Bat looked past at the tearful little boy and, for a brief instant, might have made an effort at something akin to a smile before turning abruptly, his attention shifting back to Selina. "We're leaving. Don't make me drag you out and cause a scene in front of the boy." He was not joking, nor was it a request. Neither of them belonged there, and Iris was currently best suited to watch the boy. The Bat, he recognized, wasn't needed here.