"Now, that depends," he says, his voice matching her words for feigned innocence. Still light, still apparently friendly to any onlooker, still entirely Bruce Wayne, still entirely fake.

She's good. There's even a suggestion of genuine amusement in his eyes, because as much as he wants that string of pearls she's wearing back, he can ... appreciate a certain skillset. One that Miss Selina Kyle most certainly possesses.

Nobody without those skills could have cracked that uncrackable safe. Could have gotten past him and away. Would be walking over to him now with so much self-assurance when, as far as she knows, he was a safe target, a reclusive cripple who never left the house.

She chose the wrong man to burgle. For both the pearls and the prints, even if he's not sure yet just who wants his prints and why.

"On whether that face was one you last saw jumping out of your window with your mother's pearls."