The Bat's annoying promise that he would drag her out if she caused a scene was one thing; she was getting used to his particular brand of insulting asshole, but the woman, the woman treating her like nothing pushed all of Selina's little hurt buttons, the ones she wouldn't tell anyone existed.
She rolled her eyes at the Bat. "Coming. Coming," she said purred, walking past him obediently.
It only took a few seconds, and the movements were so fast that they were nothing, a blur. Talk down to her, would she? Automatically assume the worst about her, would he? Kicking down the door, even without shoes, was nothing. Carefully separating the nanny from the child whose hand she was holding, even at a great speed, was nothing. Slamming Iris through the sliding glass door and onto the balcony floor, a safe distance from the boy, was nothing. The dog was between them and Gus, meaning the Bat had to get past the snarling creature to intervene. Selina wouldn't give him enough time for that, though.
She was on top of Iris in an instant, thighs on the woman's stomach and hands fisted in her shirt. She leaned close enough to that Gus wouldn't hear what she said, because the kitty cat knew she wasn't going to be very nice. "You think you're so much better than me, do you? You judgmental bitch. It's people like you that make people like me. Wrap yourself in that tonight, when you go to bed alone and with nothing. Because that child? He isn't yours. And," she added, shoving away from the woman below her in disgust, "I didn't hurt him. I wouldn't have."
She didn't waste time looking for the Bat before dropping off the edge of the balcony and into the Las Vegas night; she didn't expect to be pursued.