On a mission in Gotham City be like…
Arsenal: I hate this town, Jaybird! I hate this town!
Red Hood: It’s understandable. You are missing a piece of your scalp.
Tag: source: it’s always sunny in philadelphia
Nightwing [on the Comm Link]: *on his motorcycle, tailing them* Did you two just push Tim out of the moving Batmobile and yell, “You’re out of the team”?!
Red Hood: Now, in hindsight, that does seem kind of rash.
Robin: *pulling into a Batburger drive-through* It was kind of a snap decision.
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*
Why it sometimes takes forever for Batman’s sons to finish their meals (much to Alfred’s chagrin)…
Robin: *staring at a utensil on the dining table* All of my instincts and my training are telling me to use this like a weapon.
– • – • – • – • –
This is me going out on a limb here and assuming that this family still takes the time to eat.
When your grandsons, in an effort to step out of their father’s shadow, get an apartment of their own…
Nightwing’s uniform: *splayed on the couch along with Dick’s hair products and smelly socks*
Red Hood’s weapons: *lying in wait for someone to accidentally trip on them*
Red Robin’s coffee: *spilled all over the dining table – which also doubles as Tim’s makeshift bed – and his laptop*
Robin’s pets: *walking in and out of the bathroom, soaking wet*
Alfred: *looking around with a deadpan-but-clearly disappointed look on his face*
Alfred: *clears his throat as he steps over a fallen garbage can on the floor*
Alfred: Who washes the dishes?
Jason: *defensively raising his hands in front of his face* Nobody washes the dishes! We eat the food directly off the coffee table and you know it!
Nightwing: I haven’t seen you for a month, B, and I’m standing here in a neck brace. You gonna ask how I’m doing or what happened or… ?
Batman: *not looking up from the Batcomputer* I assume you did something stupid.
Taking your crush on a tour of the Manor be like…
Tam: *walking slowly around Tim’s bedroom and checking out posters of obscure rock bands on the walls*
Tam: *smirking* You know, you’re weird.
Tim: *trying to sound chill while (almost) soundlessly dumping his disguises into his cabinet, kicking weapons under his bed, and taking down case photos linked with thread and pinned to his headboard, all while Tam’s back is still to him* You have no idea.
Red Robin: *snoring loudly with half of his body sticking out of the Redbird and saliva running down his jaw*
Nightwing: How many sleeping pills did you give Tim?
Red Hood: I don’t know. Seven? Twelve?
Red Hood: *glares at criminal*
Red Hood: I’m going to go oil my chainsaw.
Red Robin: What?
Nightwing: *whispering* Jay, we don’t need the chainsaw. Is that what’s in that bag?
Red Hood: Oh, we do. Because drawing a confession out of someone is like doing a beautiful dance. A beautiful dance with a chainsaw.
Red Robin: He makes less and less sense as the days go by.
~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~ · ~
Must be all that Lazarus Pit fluid.
Red Robin: *snoring loudly with half of his body sticking out of the Redbird and saliva running down his jaw*
Nightwing: How many sleeping pills did you give Tim?
Red Hood: I don’t know. Seven? Twelve?
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