#batman#dc#dc comics#bruce wayne#dick grayson#tim drake#dc fanart#batfamily#batfam
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“You want a coffee? 'Cause I could use a coffee.“
[Prompt]
"Ooh, yes, please," he replied, pushing the welding goggles up off his eyes and atop his head after cutting off the torch. He shot a smile of appreciation to Elvis and motioned towards the coffee pot in the corner.
"I like sugar with mine, but no milk."
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“You hear that? Something’s close.”
[Prompt]
Baptiste paused in his step, brows furrowed with concentration as he tried to pinpoint just where the noise was coming from. Elvis was right - it was close - but with the way sound bounced off the empty walls it was difficult to decipher just where the movement was coming from.
After a moment, he pointed towards a hallway on their left, and then dipped behind a fallen bookcase motioning for Elvis to follow him. Once the two were settled, Baptiste drew his gun and waited - if they were lucky, whatever was making the noise would pass right by them... if they weren’t - at least he’d be ready.
“I’m worried about you.“
[Prompt]
“Hey, it’s my job to patch things up - people included,” she retorted with a small smile, before pulling the rag away from her head to see if the blood flow had decreased at all. Upon seeing it had, she pressed the rag back to the wound and shot him a wink.
“I just so happen to be considered a person.”
“ what? what is it?”
[Prompt]
“I heard something,” she whispered, and waved a hand for him to be still so she could better hear their surroundings. Again, she heard it - a shuffling of sorts. It wasn’t until the shuffling was accompanied by a low groan that she was sure of what it was.
“A ghoul,” she said quietly, and motioned towards the left of their location. “Off that way. Pretty sure it’s just the one.”
“Oh, you feel it. You feel it in your jellies, don’t you?”
[Prompt]
“In my jellies?” Rori repeated with amusement, before shaking her head and patting the man on his shoulder amicably. “No, no. I feel it in my balls.”
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“Should we talk about the fact that your childhood bed is a Silver Shroud bed?”
[Prompt]
The comment earned a scoff as she pulled the blanket emblazoned with the Silver Shroud’s image down and tossed a pillow onto the bed for the man.
“It’s not my childhood bed,” she corrected, before motioning for him to make himself comfortable. “It’s my spare bed and if you want to be ungrateful of my amazing taste in heroes, you can sleep on the concrete floor instead.”
