Catch a Tiger by the Tail

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

What does it mean to be a man? That was the question which ran through the mind of Mr. Tawky Tawny as he watched passersby from the inkwell of darkness that was his alleyway. To be male, or to identify as one, those were not what puzzled him, as he fell into both categories. No, his question was purpose and place in life, and if anything not born a man could become one. After all, can anything truly change what it was born as?

But what if a man wasn't born at all? What if, through the intangible, unfathomable depths of magic held by elder gods and spirits of the arcane, a man was created into being, fully formed, instead of born? Was he still a man, or was he merely a construct which could think, speak and walk? To such end, what made a man: his experiences, his memories, or his intelligence? If it were experience, Mr. Tawky Tawny could scarcely consider himself an infant, as he'd spent less than a week in his current form. Yet if it were memories, perhaps he was an ancient mystic, recalling things from centuries gone past. And if it were intelligence, he shuddered to think. When Ibis the Invincible breathed life into him, a true life with a true body, with it had come knowledge from Ibis himself, and he presumed from the other ancients as well. What thoughts were his own, and what thoughts had once been dreamed up in another's head did constant battle as he fought to establish his place in the world, all while fighting with yet another voice - one that Ibis did not intend.

The tiger.

Perhaps Ibis had met such beings before, or perhaps Ibis had thought that any vessel vaguely man-shaped should be able to think and act of its own intention, free from the instincts and natures of a wild animal. In any case, Ibis had underestimated the strength of the primal urges and desires of the beast he had brought to life. Mr. Tawky Tawny had been something else before he was a man; a child's cuddly toy tiger doll dressed in a green checked suit coat, polka dot tie, and black pants. A gentle and loving insight into the cartoons of the 1940s, when the doll had been manufactured. So, it was as a tiger type of man that Ibis had created him. Six and a half feet in height, nearly three hundred pounds of muscle, sinew, teeth, tail and claws, Mr. Tawky Tawny was, if anything, a tiger-man at best. Capable of walking on two legs of four, and of both roaring and speech, he was neither tiger nor man, yet fancied himself the latter. If only he knew what that truly meant.

Billy had been startled the first time Mr. Tawky Tawny had appeared to him in this form, dwarfing the boy in the small boarding room back at Brentwood Academy. Billy was the closest thing Mr. Tawky Tawny had to family, having been in the boy's possession for a great many years. The magic of the Black Adam's scarab pendant had given him a form of self-awareness, even back then, and he had been Billy's silent, still companion through many a playtime, nap, cry, or just being the listening ear when Billy had no one else to talk to. Through it all he had learned how good, honest and wonderful a human could be, and as he stood there, veiled in shadow, he wondered if he could ever truly be that good, not being fully human.

The tiger in him desired other things. It wanted to hunt, to pounce upon prey and feast upon its flesh. Learning to sort instinct from reason had been tricky at first, and even now Mr. Tawky Tawny found himself consciously separating one from the other. He was a tiger. He was a man. He was something unlike anything that had ever existed. And if he chose, he could turn back into that same, cuddly tiger doll that Billy grew up with, and was certainly missing that night as Mr. Tawky Tawny took to the city while Billy slept.

It had been no difficult journey, aided by a stealthy leap into the back of a passing truck, and surely he would be back at Billy's bedside before sun-up, so he had time to experience the world for what it was; to learn what was real, and what was simply information fed into his mind by his creator without rhyme or reason. The urge to hit a bar and get a drink crossed his mind like a taxi speeding unannounced through an otherwise quiet intersection. How could he need a drink if he'd never known alcohol before? Was this his desire, or some leftover vestige of Ibis's recollection? Rubbing his broad brow with a massive paw, the tiger attempted to clear his mind and focus. First he needed to be a man. Then he could drink as one. All he needed to do was step out of the shadows and walk among them. Just a few steps would be all it would take to join the sparse, nighttime foot traffic. Just a few steps and the world would know he existed. That he, Mr. Tawky Tawny, was a man, just as they were.

On silent feet he crept toward the very edge of shadow, eyes glinting green in the darkness as the sylvansheen reflected headlights of passing cars. Striped tail lashing behind himself, he hesitated, then broke the plane of anonymity into the dismal, flickering light of a streetlamp whose purview reached at an angle into his alley. There. He had done it. A deep rumble resonated in his throat behind the Oxford collar of his dress shirt, the tiger in him finding satisfaction in knowing it was now the alpha predator of the realm, and another step sent him out onto the sidewalk to survey his hunting grounds.

[Barbara Gordon]

She shouldn’t have been out at this late hour, not when she had to open the next morning. Barbara adjusted the black mask that concealed the top half of her face, and shifted into another stretched out three point stance where she perched on the roof of a building. It wasn’t like she was planning on doing
anything - simply getting a feel for... well, lurking about on rooftops.

She pushed down a little further so she could get a good stretch going while she was up there, her black leggings and long sleeved hooded shirt not really doing much against the cool night air. She had hockey pads on her lower legs and a pair of forearm guards strapped on her arms. She was starting to feel ridiculous.

Barbara was just about to scuttle off to another rooftop when something stepped into the light from a street lamp across the street. She blinked, resisted the urge to rub her eyes, and stared. A ...mascot of some kind? Or one of those furries, out and about in what looked like a really expensive fur suit. The green suit jacket and pants were almost too much to take in; almost a Joker-esque tiger cosplay from what her first impression was telling her.

Instead of moving on, she decided to keep an eye on the sharply dressed tiger, and make sure he wasn’t going to molest any innocent passersby.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

The streetlamp's merciless glare was not the warming rays of the sun which Mr. Tawky Tawny had hoped for. He did not feel filled with life, vigor and heartiness from its light upon him as he stepped openly into the world of men. Instead it felt empty and cheap, much like the plastic bag which scuttled down the street, blown by night breezes and buffeted by gusts rolling off passing cars. He straightened his tie.

It was no simple task with such large paws, his claws threatening to emerge and puncture the seemingly pointless element of his wardrobe, yet for some reason he felt his tie made him a man more so than would not wearing one. And if he were to wear one, it ought to be straight, correct? The clothes make the man, so someone said once. At least he presumed someone had said it, and that it was true or at least a universally accepted idiom, as it came so quickly to the forefront of the jumbled information inside Mr. Tawky Tawny's brain

For a moment, the idiom appeared to be true. As he stood there at the end of the alleyway, he caught only a sideways glance or two from passersby, yet no one screamed "Oh, shit, it's a tiger!" Did that make him a man, then? Was that as he appeared to others. Caught up in a cat's natural curiosity, Mr. Tawky Tawny forgot his reticence and hurried to the first store window he could locate. The dark interior provided the perfect backdrop for his reflection upon its window glass, and there he saw himself, absolutely a tiger in a suit. And yet there were other suits, as he'd stumbled across a tailor's shop, from what he could imagine, and he paused to compare his own, dated and garish suit jacket to the clean, modern ones stood upon mannequins, reminding him that even if he were to dress as a man, he did not know what constituted a good one. He would choose a different suit to appear in when next he made his transformation, he told himself, but for now there was a city to see.

Pulling away from his impromptu mirror. and he bars over it which made his reflection seem like that of a caged zoo animal, the tiger began his exploration of Gotham in earnest, starting with what appeared to be a busy night club. A few stood in line for it, so he fell in behind them. Strange stares were given to him by the youths before him in their sagging pants, gold chains, and garish tracksuit jackets. "Yo, nice threads, Macklemore," one of them laughed at him, yet Mr. Tawky Tawny did not know it to be an insult upon his outdated clothes, so he simply nodded in thanks. One by one, the prospective attendees were admitted into the establishment until it was his turn.

"Woah there, furfag," the bouncer stooped him with a hand to Mr. Tawky Tawny's chest. "Lose the mask and the mittens."

Mr. Tawky Tawny halted abruptly, staring down at the bouncer with idignant confusion. "I wear no mask, my good man," he assured him in a deep and sonorous voice, then held up his paws, wiggling his fingers. "Nor do I wear mittens. I simply wish to enter your establishment, my good... furfag." He recalled the strange greeting given to him, presuming it to be some sort of modern affectation.

It wasn't, and the bouncer let him know it. "Fuck off, you goddam furry!" the bouncer snapped, shoving Mr. Tawky Tawny back a step, and away from the line. The tiger in him readied its hot blood first, claws extending, ready to fight as he fell back into a defensive crouch from the unexpected push,fearsome fangs and jaws clenched on full display as his flews raised with a snarl. Yet Mr. Tawky Tawny held his tiger nature at bay. Glaring down the bouncer, he admitted it would be tempted to teach the arrogant fool a lesson, yet perhaps there was some social norm which Mr. Tawky Tawny had violated in order to incur his wrath unwittingly. Sheathing his claws, the tiger drew himself back up to a stand, corrected the angle of his tie, and headed off, unaware that he'd nearly given the poor bouncer a heart attack with his reaction.

Perhaps it was the low levels of light in the filthy neighborhood in which he found himself that made the bouncer mistake his head for a mask, and so it seemed only logical to head toward lights, and Mr. Tawky Tawny followed their glow into the wealthier neighborhoods, where he still attracted a few stares, yet no one flinched at his presence. Stares would be common, he assured himself, as he was a stranger among their community, after all. Perhaps all men knew their neighbors? The knowledge imparted within him by Ibis was not much help in determining such things, he found.

He also found danger.

His ears pricked at the sound of a shrill voice suddenly muffled, and he rotated them to locate the source. It appeared to be an alleyway ahead. Abandoning all attempts at blending in, the heroic instinct he'd seen in Billy manifested in himself as he broke into a sprint, bounding off the corner of a wall as he darted into the dark alleyway. Slit pupils flared wide as the darkness turned to light in his visual receptors, revealing a masked man accosting an older woman, pointing a gun at her face as he attempted to wrestle away her purse.

Mr. Tawky Tawny wanted to shout "Stop!" but the tiger in him had other ideas - it would not be denied a second time. Instead his jaws parted for a full-throated roar as his claws fully extended from both hand and foot-paws. Razor sharp black hooks of death glittered in the dim light, ready to sink deep into the thief's flesh, and it was with delight that the tiger watched the thief release his victim and run. The hunt was on, and the tiger was closing in on his prey in rapid time.

[Barbara Gordon]

She hadn't intended to get quite so much cardio, but this cat guy moved fast enough that she was having trouble keeping up. It was pretty good practice for rooftop leaping, but as he headed toward the Heights she got a little concerned. Maybe she should just call it in? If he kept going a few more blocks he'd be right in mansion country, and she'd lose him.

Barbara watched the mascot slow down, his/its head turning slowly. For a moment the face was turned toward her, and the luminescence of his eyes took her aback. They reflected the street light just like a house cat's. As she watched, the ears swiveled independently, and the creature turned its attention to the alley. She was on the far end of the building, but when he started down the alley she quickly got up and dashed across the roof, arriving at the edge of the alley just in time to see a mugger yank a purse and run, a woman falling to the ground as the tiger-man snarled and gave chase.

She didn't wait for her brain to catch up with anything like 'reason' or 'logic', but instead ran parallel to the pair down below, throwing herself down a fire escape behind the building as the thief knocked over garbage cans and scaled a chainlink fence to gain access to the back alley just as her boots splashed down in a dirty puddle.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

"Get back here!" The words roared from the tiger's jaws as he closed ground on the thief. Meaty paws bashed trash cans aside, snarling as he tore his way through whatever debris the thief attempted to use to block Mr. Tawky Tawny's path. The hunt proved more challenging than expected, with the thief displaying rare endurance at speed, but Mr. Tawky Tawny presumed that pursuit by a tiger would cause most men to discover hitherto unknown reserves of energy with which to flee.

A swipe at the miscreant's leg as he hurled himself over a chainlink fence, netted only a set of surface scratches to the back of the thief's calf before the hapless purse-snatcher tumbled over the other side and into the dominion of some strange, masked woman. Surely they must be working together, as ther would be no other reason to simply appear from above in an alleyway.

Mr. Tawky Tawny had no need to scale the fence in order to clear it, instead leaping up to perch upon the steel pipe which comprised its uppermost frame, forcing it to bend and buckle beneath his immense weight, having not been designed to carry such a load. He did not stress it further, instead dropping to all fours on the ground beyond, before drawing up to his full height, staring down at the duo before him. "Return what you have taken, miscreant," he growled. "Or you test my wrath."

A display of his extended claws as he riffled his fingers at his sides spoke to what such wrath may entail as his patience grew thin.

[Barbara Gordon]

The thief had stopped momentarily, stymied by Barbara's sudden black-masked appearance in front of him. He looked over his shoulder and stared with wide eyes at the 6'6" tiger-man as it spoke with a sonorous voice, having made short work of the obstacle of the fence.

Barbara wasn't sure what to do. Those claws looked pretty real, and the thief was bleeding from his leg, but the the mugger tried to stiff arm her to push past, and instinct took over. She sidestepped toward him, blocking his shove past her chest with one arm and slamming her opposite forearm into his jaw. As he crumpled to the ground she was left with the stolen purse in her hand and an angry monster in front of her.

Shitballs.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

A rumbling snarl of annoyance rattled from Mr. Tawky Tawny's clenched jaws as he watched the mugger go down in a single hit. His muscles tensed, body halting itself from pouncing as his prey was dispatched for him. Claws trembling as he restrained himself from lashing out at the hooded... woman? He presumed it was a woman, at least. Hard to tell with a hood and mask, though a few sniffs of the air confirmed his theory. His anger rolled back into his throat as his lips closed like curtains, a finale on the show of his massive teeth, and the tiger relaxed to his full height, smoothing out his tie and suit jacket with his left paw while eyeing the stranger before him.

Never blinking, he stared down the broad bridge of his muzzle, ears ticking this way and that for signs of anyone else who may be lurking in the darkness, ready to drop in unexpectedly, and he extended his right paw palm up, to request the stolen purse. "Return unto me that which is not yours, and you may walk away from this," he rumbled. "Attempt to run, and I vow you shall not see the end of this alley."

Mr. Tawky Tawny knew of the man who was half bat, and roamed the city as an arbiter of justice, and he had heard of another who used archery to vanquish evildoers, but thus far word of a masked woman had eluded the collected knowledge stored inside his head. The temptation to strike her down simply for interfering in his hunt was strong, yet thus far she had not properly wronged either himself or society, and so the hot blood in his veins began to cool, claws half-sheathing themselves for the time being.

[Barbara Gordon]

She looked at the dangling purse (and past it to the groaning thief who was starting to scuttle away), and back to the huge tiger-man with the very, ah, real looking claws and teeth. “Well... this isn’t exactly yours, either.”

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

"Remain," Mr. Tawky Tawny growled as he reached out a large, bare footpaw and stepped upon the back of the mugger's thigh, flexing his toe-claws directly through the man's jeans and into his flesh like meathooks, holding him there. His golden eyes did not so much as look down, however, remaining fixed upon the woman before him.

"I intend to return it to its rightful owner," he rumbled. "Resist, and I will not be convinced you are not in league with this miscreant. You wear a mask. People in masks are not to be trusted."

[Barbara Gordon]

The would-be thief cried out in pain as the tiger-man-thing stuck it’s claw’s into his leg. Barbara grimaced in sympathy as blood welled up and stain his jeans. “No, whoever you are, you can’t do this. You’re going to cut something vital if you’re not careful.” She took a second to glance past it, through the chainlink fence to where the mugged woman was uncertainly lingering.

”Hey lady!” She called out loudly. “Here’s your purse!” Barbara leaned one way, and then threw the purse over the other side of the tiger-thing, hoping to clear the fence without it grabbing it.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

The move caught Mr. Tawky Tawny off guard. Were both of his footpaws free, he surely could have leapt to intercept the purse. Yet at the same time, with its owner on the other side of the fence, he struggled to think of any reason why he would. Pride, perhaps, but would his pride not be further damaged is he intercepted the purse only to deliver it himself for the glory? No, that would certainly not be better, so instead he simply delivered a respectful nod of his head to the woman, while displaying he had her mugger well pinned. She wasted little time in taking up her purse and getting the hell out of there.

Mr. Tawky Tawny's attention returned to the masked woman, and her objection to his treatment to the mugger. He could feel the man's warm blood against his toes, staining his fur there, yet he did not release in the slightest.

"This wretch is a criminal," the tiger stated flatly. "If he did not desire such treatment at my hands, he is the one who should have stilled his vigor and taken greater care. Lawbreaking bringeth recompense; he must learn this well, or he will remain a blight upon polite society." He felt the mugger remain still, whimpering in pain, and only then did his toeclaws relax, sliding back into their sheathes, releasing the tiger's hold. His footpaw slid off the bloodied thigh slowly, smearing the pooling stain with it.

"The folly of his ways will be engraved upon his heart and mind," Mr.Tawky Tawny stated. "And reminded him in each crooked stride in his limping gait henceforth. Such is justice served."

[Barbara Gordon]

Barbara stared incredulously as the tiger-man monologued like a Shakespearean player, casually wiping blood down the injured man's leg as he retracted his foot. "Usually we just tie them up and call the police." Like she'd ever done this before - but that's what the Batman did, and she was intending to use his successful vigilante career for guidance.

"Maybe I should just, uh, take this guy to the station." Barbara inched toward the fallen man, and the subsequently the tiger. Surely there was a precinct nearby?

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

Station? What was a station? The word pinballed through the information in Mr. Tawky Tawny's brain, pinging wildly from one definition to another. A place, a rank, a class level, a piece of paper, a form of automobile, a horse-drawn wagon, a broadcast frequency, a terminal for transport, there were too many options, and none connected with what the woman meant quickly enough. He saw herdrawing closer, while his face registered confusion. No, there must be some other meaning, he told himself, seeking it out in the infuriating deluge of information in his brain. The word itself wasn't working, he needed a modifier. Medical? No, a medical station would be called a hospital, or a clinic. Law enforcement? That was it! A police station!

The answer brightened his expression for a split second before he glared down at both figures before him. She meant to take this villain to the police, so that his wounds could be cared for, and he could receive a slap on the wrist for his crime.

"And praytell me, what tale would you relate to them, you who wear a mask?" the tiger rumbled. "Surely they would think you to be in league with this cur, and any testimony you give to the contrary would be tainted most heavily by suspect. No, the task shall be mine, for I possess the courage to show my face. Should he struggle, he shall be dealt a second reminder in his flesh." With that he reached down, paw ready to seize the mugger by his hoodie as if he were some infant kitten.

[Barbara Gordon]

"You possess the courage to show your face?" She still couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was dark, but not that dark. "I mean, you're, like, a tiger. What's up with that? Maybe you're just going to ... eat this guy.

"I can't let you take him?" She looked down at the bleeding mugger, who looked back at her with pleading eyes. Barbara pressed her fingers to her shoulder, where her phone was strapped to her arm, activating her speed dial for Connor. "Yeah, you can't take him."

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

Golden eyes narrowed in the darkness, transforming to dangerous, glittering slits as the tiger's lips parted, baring his teeth. "And who might you be to stop me?" he growled. His hulking mass stepped forward, practically straddling the mugger. "You are but an interloper in my application of justice."

His arms readied themselves to either strike or defend, yet his claws remained sheathed for the time being. This woman had not proven herself an enemy, and had indeed worked to restore the woman's stolen purse, so he had no compelling urge to cause her injury. Yet she threatened his authority over a lawbreaker whom he had laid claim to first, and due to lack of experience with such inter-vigilante political matters - not to mention the urge for a tiger to guard their prey - he pushed back against any assistance. Was this the way of man? To interfere in the affairs of another, to judge them based upon appearance? Perhaps Mr. Tawny had given man too much credit, as his personal impressions were based primarily upon young Billy.

Behind him, his ringed tail swayed, tip flicking with agitation at each change of direction. There was no question any longer, Mr. Tawky Tawny was not a man in a tiger costume, instead he was exactly what he appeared to be.

[Barbara Gordon]

Several scenarios played out in her head in a matter of seconds. She could charge this tiger thing, try to take it down, and get shredded by its teeth and/or claws. She could run away, and leave the thug to whatever fate awaited him. Pretend to charge...but then run away? Barbara felt sick to her stomach.

Her bluetooth headset wasn't ringing in her ear, and she realized that she hadn't hit the right button on the touch screen. Never mind then.

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands in what she hoped was a placating gesture. "Let's just... go back. You asked me what I'd tell the police? I'd pin a note to the guy's chest and say he was mauled by some sort of creature while trying to steal someone's purse." It occurred to her that the 'criminal' could probably press assault charges against the tiger guy, but she didn't say that. "Actually, since you, or we, stopped him before he got away with it, he probably should just go to the hospital. You need a witness to press charges, and you scared the victim away as well."

Barbara pointed behind him, through the fence at the empty alleyway. The woman was indeed gone.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

"Were we not witness to this miscreant's assault? Did we not see him steal an innocent's property and take it for himself?" Mr. Tawny balked, his lips curling in contempt. "We will be witness to this man's crime. Or at least I shall be, if you possess not the stomach for it."

He began to reach down, intending to snatch up the mugger by his hoodie. "That he did not succeed in full, thanks to my efforts, does not negate that he succeeded in short, thus forcing the writing of his guilt to be indelible upon his soul."

The claws came out again, hooking deep into the mugger's hoodie to haul him up from the ground, already pale from his loss of blood. Mr. Tawny spared him only a sneer before standing straight, the man dangling from one powerful paw as the tiger sniffed the air. "Which way is this station? We shall proceed unto it henceforth, and deliver our account of this criminal's actions."

[Barbara Gordon]

"What if he bleeds to death on the way there?" Barbara asked uneasily, eyeing the bloody ground and the man's pale complexion. "And, uh, no. Masked vigilantes can't bear witness in a court of law. Just admit you've made a mess of this and I'll call an ambulance for the guy."

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

The tiger reared back, his face twisted and wrinkled in clear offense. "I wear no mask, surely my word would be accepted," he snorted.

[Barbara Gordon]

"You're a fucking tiger!" Barbara blurted, before she could stop herself. "You're more likely to be arrested than this guy is!"

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

Mr. Tawky Tawny's golden eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as a rumble, while a biting reply poised itself upon the tip of his sandpapery tongue. But all that came out was, "Racist."

With that he cast the mugger back to the grimy floor, then crossed his arms over bis broad chest, and that hideous polka-dot tie. "Fine. Summon this ambulance of yours. But be it upon you if this man goes free and brings harm to another." Behind him his tail lashed like a striped bullwhip, scarcely able to contain the rage he felt boiling in his heart.

[Barbara Gordon]

This was definitely going into the mission logs (okay, there weren't any yet, but she was definitely starting a notebook tonight) as 'the most surreal experience of my life.' Barbara ripped her phone from her arm, the Velcro tearing loudly as she hit three buttons through the waterproof plastic. "Yeah, there's a guy here, he's been attacked by some kind of animal I think?" She pitched her voice a bit higher and poured on the vocal fry as she talked.

"He snatched my friend's purse and then when I ran after him he was on the ground bleeding. He doesn't look good? I got the purse back though." Barbara gave the operator the cross streets and then hung up. She slapped the phone back onto her arm, glaring at the enormous tiger man. "Now you just leave. Vigilante 101. Well, we could tie him up, but he's not going anywhere."

In the distance a siren faintly began to wail.

[Mr. Tawky Tawny]

"Captain Marvel would not leave," Mr. Tawny chuffed. "He would remain until the authorities arrived." A glance down at the mugger made his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh. "And I am not 'some kind of animal.' I am a Bengal tiger. Panthera tigris tigris. Do they not teach the order, genus, and families of mammals in schools any longer?"

No, he presumed not. Apparently they didn't teach manners, either, or this masked woman would have surely known that one should not pass judgment upon another purely because of their race. This world had much to be taught, he decided, and it would begin with a final lesson to the mugger.

Uncrossing his arms, Mr. Tawky Tawny crouched down and lifted the mugger's chin, forcing him to look the tiger in the eyes. "Be this a warning unto you. Continue down the path of wickedness and you shall not know my mercy a second time." Rising, he glanced to the masked woman.

"That will have to suffice. Now, upon your insistence, we must be off, homo sapien," he grunted, making sure to brush her aside with his shoulder as he passed, making slowly to the other end of the alleyway.

[Barbara Gordon]

Captain Marvel? Barbara sidestepped the tiger as he brushed past her, biting her tongue to keep back a retort about how Bengal tigers don't wear suits and stand on two legs. Just let him go. No one would believe the thug that he'd been assaulted by a humanoid tiger person, so if he was smart he just wouldn't bring it up.

But then, if he was smart he wouldn't have been yanking purses in alleys in the first place. "See ya around," she said to the tiger's back, darting down the alley in the opposite direction. Actually hope I never see you again!

Batman she could understand - Tigerman was something else entirely.