Bart: *puts on Robin’s pants* Well, the joke’s on you, Robin! I’m wearing your pants, and I’m not wearing any underwear.

Tim: Impulse, the last time I wore those pants, I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Bart: *hastily pulls off pants* Well played.

The true story behind Tim’s “death” in Detective Comics #940…

Jacob: Putting aside why you’d want to fake your own death –

Tim: Because I have to get away from my family! They’re a seething cauldron of dysfunctional, chaotic, neurotic, narcissistic, quasi-incestuous megalomaniacs!

Why Gotham’s criminals abhor Red Hood…

Dr. Strange: … Or you could just ask me, the man who graduated from Gotham Medical School, summa cum laude.

Red Hood: With a minor in Spanish Bragging.

Dr. Strange: That was Latin.

Red Robin: He knows.

When you wake up strapped to the back of your brother’s motorcycle after being infected by Scarecrow’s fear toxin…

Red Robin: Just curious. What happened between your safe house and right now?

Red Robin: Well, you were hysterical, Tim, so I thought the best thing to do would be to inject you with a tranquilizer, drive you to a private air field, put you on a stolen plane, fly you overnight to Gateway City, and then… that brings us to now.

When your heavily sleep-deprived, case-obssessed brother hasn’t even changed his clothes in three days…

Jason: *loudly slurping a milkshake*

Tim: *pauses from typing on the Batcomputer*

Jason: *burps loudly*

Tim: *grits teeth* You know what I don’t have time for?

Jason: *wipes his mouth sloppily with the back of his hand* Shopping for clothes?

Jason trying to convince his brothers that he’s the bad ass in the family…

Jason: You know how I’m kind of a sexy bad boy who rides motorcycles into work and is always breaking the rules in the name of justice?

Dick: I don’t like where this is going.

Jason: I also maybe sometimes bring home case files to work on them after hours, and I might not be that great about returning them.

Dick: *facepalms*

Tim: *rolls eyes*

Damian: Tt.