Tennis at the Manor…

Tim: Just admit it, Jason, you have no backhand.

Jason: Excuse me, Little-er Wing, I have a very solid backhand.

Tim: Shielding your face and shrieking like a girl is not a backhand.

Jason: I was shrieking… like a warrior.


So, Jay… You can face bullets and explosives head-on, but not tennis balls?

Jason: Hey, so you’re planning a surprise birthday party for the old Bat? I think he’s onto you.

Dick: Yeah, so please, please, please don’t say anything to Bruce.

Jason: You want me to lie to him?

Dick: Is that a problem?

Jason: Nah.

Hanging out at Red Hood’s ultra-pristine safe house be like…

Dick: *stretching out on the couch*

Tim: *tries to grab remote control*

Damian: *slaps Tim’s hand away*

Jason: *walks into room carrying a tray of chips and soda cans*

Jason: Feet. On. The. Floor. Or come over no more.

Feet: *on the floor in a second flat*

Tim: I think that if you really like this girl, you should just trust her.

Dick: Thanks, Tim.

Jason: Or you could follow her and see where she goes.

Tim: Oh, that’s what I would do. Forget mine.


We expect nothing less from you boys. You are Batman’s sons after all.

Tim: Okay, well, Steph said “Hi, do I look fat today?” So I looked at her –

Dick: Whoa, whoa, whoa. You looked at her? You never look. You just answer. It’s like a reflex. Do I look fat? No! Is she prettier than I am? No! Does size matter? No!

When the only reading material you can find in the bathroom is Cosmopolitan magazine (that either Babs or Steph left behind)…

Jason: *toilet flush*

Jason: *walks out holding the issue* So, I took the quiz, and it turns out that I do put career before men.