Undercover mission at a restaurant…
Jason: Let’s go Ti – Thomas, c’mon! Chop, chop.
Tim: You’re the one who dropped it! Why do I have to clean it up?
Jason: Because you’re the garçon de cuisine, which means kitchen boy, whereas I am the sous chef, which means shut your face and mop up the damn yogurt.
Tim: And why do you get to be sous chef?
* Flashback to Jason and Roy eating out in France while staking out a tech criminal during their Red Hood/Arsenal days *
Jason: Because I have fine dining experience!
Tag: caffeinated crusader
Undercover mission at a restaurant…
Jason: Let’s go Ti – Thomas, c’mon! Chop, chop.
Tim: You’re the one who dropped it! Why do I have to clean it up?
Jason: Because you’re the garçon de cuisine, which means kitchen boy, whereas I am the sous chef, which means shut your face and mop up the damn yogurt.
Tim: And why do you get to be sous chef?
* Flashback to Jason and Roy eating out in France while staking out a tech criminal during their Red Hood/Arsenal days *
Jason: Because I have fine dining experience!
Stranded in a swamp…
Red Robin: Why are you so scared of crocodiles?
Red Hood: Gee, I don’t know, Tim. Maybe deep down, I’m afraid of any apex predator that lived through the K-T extinction.
Red Robin: The…?
Red Hood: Physically unchanged for 100 million years, because it’s the perfect killing machine – a half-ton of cold-blooded fury, with a bite force of 20,000 Newtons, and stomach acid so strong it can dissolve bones and hooves. And now we’re surrounded, those snake-eyes are watching from the shadows, waiting for the night –
Nightwing: ♪ Waiting for the night! ♪
Robin: Damn it, Grayson!
Nightwing: ♪ Ooh-hoo! ♪
Red Hood: Keep your voice down!
Nightwing: Why?! Crocodiles don’t have ears!
Red Hood: They absolutely have ears, dickhead!
Mornings at the Manor…
Damian: *cutting down animal-shaped shrubs on the lawn with a katana*
Dick: *watches Damian through the kitchen window while eating his cereal*
Dick: *grinning* His quirks just make you love him more.
Alfred: *blinks*
Alfred: *continues cooking omelettes*
Jason: *aggressively stuffs his mouth with pancakes*
Tim: *chokes on his coffee*
Bruce: *hides behind the Gotham Gazette* Dick:
Dick: *jaws aching* Someone please agree with me.
At a Wayne Foundation gala…
Jason: *grabs a glass of champagne from a server’s tray*
Cass: Nice tux, Tim.
Tim: I know. It belonged to Jason. He was buried in it, so… family heirloom.
Jason: *spits out champagne*
At a Batfamily mission briefing…
Robin: *glaring at Jason while grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket* After this is over, you and me –
Red Hood: *taps Damian on the nose with his index finger* Boop!
Robin: *stomps away furiously* Hrrrrrr.
Red Robin: Why do you constantly antagonize him?
Red Hood: I – Oh, my gosh. Tim, are you jealous?
Red Robin: No, I –
Red Hood: *in a singsong voice* I’m gonna make it up to you, buddy.
Red Robin: *face-palming* Please don’t.
Damian: Drake.
Tim: Brat. The bet ends today. Are you ready?
Damian: I was born ready.
Tim: To lose? The whole question was, “Are you ready to lose?” and you said you were born that way.
Damian: Twist my words all you want.
Tim: Okay.
Damian: I’m winning this bet.
Jason: What bet? What’re you guys talking about?
Dick: Seriously? The bet? They’ve been keeping score all year. It comes up all the time. What are you doin’ all day?
Jason: Nothin’. Why, you wanna hang out?
Mornings at the Manor…
Damian: *pouring Tim a cup of coffee*
Tim: Is that poison?
Damian: It’s decaffeinated, Drake.
Tim: Oh, are you trying to kill me?
Dick: Hey, Little Wing.
Jason: Screw you.
Damian: Excuse me, that is no way to address a superior.
Jason: Oh, yeah? Screw you, too.
Tim: *walking into the room and bumping into Jason, who’s fuming on his way out*
Tim: Whoa. What was that all about?
Alfred: *gives them a pointed look*
Alfred: You all forgot his death anniversary. It was yesterday.
Red Hood: *peeks from behind a crate at a group of burly men in state-of-the-art armor guarding the warehouse entrance*
Red Hood: *whispering* How are we going to get past them without a gun fight?
Red Robin: *studying a digital blueprint of the warehouse* I’ll tell you how John McClane would do it: the vents.
Red Hood: *stuffs his revolvers back into their holsters and nods enthusiastically* Blast the A/C, they get chilly, they leave to find sweaters.
Red Robin:
Red Robin: No. We’re going to climb through them.
Red Hood: Even better! Classic use of vents.
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