Brad: “Bro do you remember what Robin used to wear, back when we were kids? With like, those little feathery booty shorts?”
Dick: “Scaled. Not feathery. He wore an armored leotard.”
Brad: “Nah, man, they were totally feathery! ‘Cause robins have feathers. I never really understood that—why would Batman’s sidekick be themed after a songbird? Robins aren’t scary. They don’t fight crime, and they don’t come out at night. Why not ‘Batboy’ or ‘Owlkid’ or something?”
Dick: “I’m pretty sure Robin’s schtick was based off Robin Hood the outlaw, not the bird. That’s why he wore green, and had a uniform cleverly blending medieval costumery with, uh, acrobatic attire.”
Brad: “Whatever. I’m just saying, it was weird.”
Dick: “Not really? Look up classic strongman costumes and historical illustrations of Robin Hood. Or Google Jules Leotard.”
Brad: “But the bare legs! The pixie boots! Why would Batman let him wear that? It’s creepy.”
Dick: “It wasn’t! Look. It was a different time. In context, that costume was obviously heroic. Besides, he was a little kid. I’m sure he’d wear something different now.”
Jason: “Yeah, but didn’t he keep wearing the short pants until he was old enough to vote? I’m pretty sure I remember that Robin wearing the pixie boots through college... he must have spent a fortune getting his legs waxed. I think I’d die before I’d do that.”
Dick: “This is Gotham. People do weirder things all the time.”
Brad: “Haven’t there been a lot of Robins? What happens to them? Do they die and Batman just hopes no one will notice when they’re replaced?”
Jason: “I think that’s exactly what happens. He’s probably got a whole cellar full of dead Robins.”