Jason: *spots Damian at the Batcomputer* Are you looking at kittens again?
Damian: No. I use Drake’s computer for that.
Tag: tim drake
Imagine: Tim, showing Conner a hidden corner in the Batcave (instead of “college”).
Imagine: Tim Drake, talking to a mirror.
Early on-the-job training with the “OG Robin” be like…
Goons: *in hot pursuit*
Robin: *standing on the edge of a cliff* Y-you w-want me to j-j-jump?
Nightwing: *chuckles* No, Tim, I want you to have the power to apparate like the teenage wizards in “Harry Potter”, but you don’t, so into the wind you go! *shoves him lightly then follows*
In the Batplane…
Batman:
The Flash:
Batman:
The Flash: *shuddering*
Batman: You okay?
The Flash: *still trying to get over seeing Red Robin and Robin in action only a few moments back*
The Flash: You convinced two healthy kids to jump out of a plane. Is that even legal?
Tim: Dick, we have a problem.
Dick: Guys, I am not your mother, so don’t come tattling to me every time one of you does something that the other one doesn’t like.
Tim: I’m telling you, he’s crazy. He keeps threatening me and talking in a scary voice.
Damian: No I didn’t.
Tim: Oh, so you’re saying you didn’t threaten to cut my hair off and give it to Ra’s as a birthday present?
Damian: You know, Drake, I think you’re taking my words a little out of context.
Tim: What?! What context?!
Paintball war at the Manor…
Dick: *whispering* Why did the Resurrected Robins stop firing?
Tim: *listening to every sound* I don’t know… They’re probably out of ammo.
Jason: *yelling from a makeshift fort in Damian’s room* Hey, Fake-Dead Robins, we are giving you a chance to surrender!
Dick: *aims his paintball marker at the draped Batman bedsheet* Yeah, they’re definitely out of ammo.
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.
Mission on a remote island…
Red Robin: *cutting through jungle foliage with his bo staff* Brat, who are you talking to – Oh, #*$@!!!
Alien: BLARG!
Robin: *standing in front of the nine-foot-tall, Predator-looking creature, ready to defend it* Stop! He is my friend! He’s not going to eat anybody!
Red Hood: *yelling from behind a bush* Yeah! Says you stink too much to eat!
Assassin androids: *closing in*
Red Hood: *feeling his empty pockets for spare ammo and finding none* Yeah, well, I have a plan.
Red Robin: Dodging bullets is not a plan!
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