Red Robin: We should tell Bruce.

Red Hood: Or we don’t tell him so he doesn’t get pissed at us again.

Red Robin: I like where this is going.

Red Hood: It’s going. That’s it. It went.


Oh, please, Mr. Timothy “I Lie to Batman” Drake.

Mornings at the Manor (and it’s Jason’s turn to cook breakfast)…

Tim: *takes a bite* It tastes familiar.

Dick: Uhhh… Beef?

Tim: No.

Jason Chicken? I’ll take chicken.

Damian: What does it taste like, Drake?

Tim: Despair.

Dick:

Jason:

Damian:

Jason: Is it possible that it just needs salt?

What people think Batman thinks about when he’s lying down on his king-sized bed all alone in the wee hours of the morning after patrol while staring at the ceiling: JUSTICE.

What he really thinks about: How can I know so much about the bonds of chemicals yet so little about the bonds of friendship?

When you realize that maybe it isn’t a good idea to pair up your two younger brothers for patrol just yet…

Red Robin and Robin: *storm into the Batcave, shoving each other out of the way, and immediately head to opposite directions*

Red Robin: *swearing angrily under his breath*

Robin: -Tt-

Nightwing: Um…

Red Robin: *glowers at Damian while stripping off his uniform*

Robin: *hisses at Tim, grabs Alfred the Cat, and goes upstairs to his bedroom*

Nightwing: So…

Red Robin: The brat followed me home. Can we keep him? Can we keep him? Say no, Dick!