Doug shook the haze from his mind as he looked her over, her hand grasping his wrist tightly but not in a threatening manner as she appraised him in turn. The shape of her hood and the grace of her movements made Doug almost positive that this was Catwoman, a lifetime criminal who had recently garnered news as a hero, saving lives and fighting crime in Gotham.
Slowly, he pulled his hand from her shoulder and grip, noticing a deep cut on the other arm, just below the shoulder, and wincing slightly in empathy at it. "That looks bad." He could barely see her eyes behind the red tinted goggles, his eyes searching. "Dr. Thompkins is out of town, but... uhh, I can help clean the wound and mend it."
He looked down at himself, realizing that only boxers was not the best... blushing as he turned, Doug walked over to his dresser and pulled out a T-shirt, tossing it on quickly. Thankfully, this was a routine he'd taken part in a number of times, and Leslie had encouraged him to learn how to dress such wounds as if she'd foreseen something like this. Well, maybe not like this. For starters, why had she chosen to come into his apartment? There were plenty of ways into the clinic, even when it was closed and locked up, that would have made more sense.
Doug looked back at the woman, her figure framed by the weak light of the room in a way that made him swallow and feel a little thirsty. Her skin glistened with sweat and her shape filled out more so than Batgirl's, and Doug started warring with his own brain to keep on task. He slipped on his pool sandals and did his best to hide his embarrassment, smiling awkwardly at her. "Take a seat. I'll grab the bandages and iodine. Do you need stitches?"