Roy appreciated the ease in which this Bat approached him, the way she carried herself. She wasnât threatened by him (and she shouldnât beâ heâd never attack anyone without justifiable cause) she was confident that this was not a battle, but still on guard, still wary of the man before her. The red head liked that, respected that. She might have been new to Gotham, by his definition of the word of course, but she was no rookie.
"What can I say," The ex-Militant shrugged, grin still in place. "Iâm a giving kind of guy. Doesnât mean I can afford to let the bad guys go." He knew heâd be toeing the line. It was always that way when he was with the Outlaws. They werenât operating under the big boss of Gothamâs crime sweepers and that made them more dangerous, less desirable. Why wouldnât it? They had been killers after all, not murderers, but exterminators, and it had always made the big, bad Bat furious. Even now, though he had yet to off any of Gothamâs seedy street criminals, he was a rogue, an unpredictable, and he knew better than to think heâd be welcomed with open arms.
"Beggars canât be choosers, I suppose. Iâm not exactly filling theaters, but youâve seen my co-stars." Roy motioned to the man laying on the ground unconscious by their feet. "I canât be held responsible for their lack of ingenuity. I work with what I have." Stifling a yawn he leaned back against the brick wall, pocketing his hands, foot still braced on the copper stone.
"You can tell Daddy Bats what you want, princess. Sânot like I havenât dealt with him before." The red head snorted at the memory. Jasonâs anger at the man, he could understand it, he had similar emotions of his own. So, while he personally had nothing against The Batman, it was a pact of solidarity to his old friend that the ex- SEAL not agree with the Bat on anything. He supposed that meant not agreeing with the Batâs friends either. Now that made Roy laugh, a huff of breath escaping his nose, Jason must have had a time with it tooâ the Batman having friends.
That was odd. Broken speech patterns⊠an impediment maybe? No. It sounded more like English was this girlâs second language. He eyed her for a moment, trying to get a full gauge of information as he kept an easy grin in place, less obvious that way. Roy liked to hide his thoughts in laid back smiles, though by now, it was a habitâ one Kori often gave him grief for.
"Well, Black Batâ call this what you will," The red head made a gesturing motion, lightly raising his elbows but never removing his hands from his pockets. "But I think itâs an interrogation." He took a moment, years of training allowing him to think fast on his feet. A name, huh? He hadnât had one of those in a while, and he sure as hell couldnât offer up his civilian ID. Arsenal was his old mantle, but that identity belonged to the Outlaws and as of now, he wasnât one of them. He didnât feel like Arsenal, like himself, not yet, and he wouldnât until he was back with his old team. So that was out of the question. Besides, this outfit⊠it didnât have a mantle to it, a hoodie and a domino, he could be anyone, he was no one, and that seemed like a pretty honest answer to him.
"I donât have a name. Lost it somewhere⊠You think Batman could help me find it?" Perhaps it had been the months without real human contact, without pleasant and casual conversations, but Roy decided that he would try and get his full from this little interrogation; whether she wanted to call it that or not. He was itching for something normal, and this was really the only normal he knew.
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