"On the bright side," Dick says as he shimmies down the building, "You didn't raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers."

"Yeah. Thanks. Just what I need. Black lipstick."

"His name is Tim and I think my dick will never understand the difference between fear and arousal again."

"Didn't you know, Jason?" Tim says, voice light and taking on that tone that their public personas use, "I'm a winter. Lavender is my color."

"It's a match made in high society heaven." Tim drawls. "Also, it's your turn to make dinner tonight, you should get on that."

"Why does Ra's know how old my piercings are?" Tim asks, and does he know where they are.

Tim refrains from telling Jason that most people are terrified of sharks. It seems a bit pointless. Tim isn't most people, after all.

"Is it too early to go and lock myself in my room and scream?"

Kon raises an eyebrow, "You weren't kissing random people. I mean – you looked pretty goal oriented when you went off to shove your tongue down his throat and make friends with his tonsils."

"This is the fortieth time." Jason says, "Just to point that out. I'm not complaining, or anything."