Red Hood: We’re trying to piece together a night and we need your help.
“Ric” Grayson: I don’t remember that night.
Red Robin: We didn’t tell you which night yet.
“Ric”: *shrugs* I don’t remember most evenings.
Robin: *exasperated sigh*
Red Hood: We’re trying to piece together a night and we need your help.
“Ric” Grayson: I don’t remember that night.
Red Robin: We didn’t tell you which night yet.
“Ric”: *shrugs* I don’t remember most evenings.
Robin: *exasperated sigh*
Trying to get your brother to make healthier choices be like…
Nightwing: *laying the blueprint for a warehouse across the street on the rooftop deck*
Red Robin: *setting up surveillance equipment*
Robin: *adjusting Goliath’s leash*
Red Hood: *coughs*
Red Robin: Wait a second, are you smoking inside of your helment again?
Red Hood: What? No.
Red Hood: *tries to stifle another cough as smoke comes out of the vents in his helmet* Oops.
Nightwing: *locating Alfred on his communicator* I knew this would happen. And how many snack cakes have you had today?
Red Hood: None.
Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin: *glare at him*
Red Hood: Okay, five… or more. Baker’s dozen at most.
Robin: Do you even know how many there are in a baker’s dozen, Todd?
Red Hood: By my count? Forty-eight.
When you’re doing surveillance and bored out of your mind and your little brother’s “lectures” aren’t helping…
Robin: What are you doing now, Todd?
Red Hood: *rolling up a piece of paper* Making a straw.
Robin: Why?
Red Hood: So I can shoot you with a spitball.
Robin: You’re not going to do that, and I’ll tell you why. This is a mission, I am your partner, and you’re going to treat me with the prop – *chokes a bit* You shot your spit in my mouth!
Red Hood: Is this gonna be a long night? Because I don’t think I could do that again.
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!