Her exposure to the world at large had often been courtesy of trips through the seediest back alleys the planet had to offer. So before she'd ever come to Gotham, she'd witnessed her fair share of eye-opening acts. Since there tended to be a lot of unpleasantness and drama mixed in with those actions, she'd concluded years ago that the actions were best left to other people.
Now she had Doug, and she was revising her opinion on the subject. So this was what those acts were about. This was why people did them a lot, and spent so much time preoccupied with the very thought of it.
She felt his pulse as she stroked him, felt him hardening more and more. Her own pulse was pounding in her ears, and she was certain he could feel it with his fingertips. Those fingertips...
Her eyes were open as she looked up at him; they widened when he said a word she didn't expect.
Babies.
She stopped stroking. She looked down at their hands, and what their hands were touching. She watched him move off of the bed and run out of the room. He was getting protection from babies.
Babies were going to happen as a result of what they were doing. She knew this. She knew this. Bruce and Babs had made sure she'd known, but at the time, the possibility that she could have found herself in that situation was remote.
She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. But this time, it wasn't due to arousal or need or excitement. It was panic. StupidstupidSTUPID! Bruce and Babs were both out of the country, leaving Batgirl and very few others to protect Gotham, and what was Cassandra doing instead?
She grabbed her costume, her belt, her gloves, her boots. Tossing and turning on the bed as the implications sunk in had seemingly taken an eternity; putting on her costume had taken no time at all. By the time Doug returned, she and her things were gone.
She'd made a mistake. She had to get out of there. Gotham needed Batgirl, not this hormonal child who was being led around by her own impulsive body. She spent the next several hours in constant, exhausting motion, chasing sirens and dispensing violence until all she could think of was her own bed.