Alfred: *throws hands up in exasperation as the five-course dinner he prepared grows cold* Well, the boys are off. I wonder where they went.
Bruce: Out of town.
Alfred: How do you know, Master Bruce?
Bruce: I told them not to.
Jason: *oblivious to the remnants of the scrumptuous five-course meal he just devoured hanging off the corner of his mouth as realization dawns on him* Son of a bat…
Dick: Right?
Tim: It didn’t seem suspicious to you? At all?
Damian: -Tt- Reverse psychology. I wouldn’t put it past Father.
Duke: Or is it reverse-reverse psychology… ?
Alfred: *grinning smugly while placing a slice of homemade blueberry mousse in front of each of them* Does it really matter, young masters?
Duke: *listening to the birds chirping, the breeze blowing, the grass being mowed by Alfred… *
Duke: *looks around the kitchen suspiciously*
Duke: It’s quiet. Too quiet.
Duke:
Dune: *narrowly misses a birdarang, which hits and breaks a ketchup bottle, and hears two sets of footsteps – one lithe, the other heavy – barreling down the stairs and familiar voices yelling insults at each other*
Duke:
Duke: *gets up, grabs his stuff, and looks up the nearest Big Belly Burger on Waze* Suddenly it’s too loud. I preferred it when it was quiet.
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 –
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