Damian: Well, I suppose it’s because I have an impressive body count.
Dick: *spits his drink out*
Tim: *head whipping around 180 degrees*
Dick: Well. If you ever wanna talk about it, I’m…I’m here?
Dick [covering his ears with his hands]: Actually, I take that back. I’m not. Don’t tell me. Don’t even say that ever again. You shouldn’t know what that means, you’re literally a BABY, WHY DO YOU–
Tim [doesn’t know which meaning of the phrase is worse]: I…how many was it, Damian?
Jason [throwing his head back]: HA!
Tim [turns back to his tablet]: Well, then.
Steph [walking in]: Gooood afternoon, mofos.
Steph: Why’s Dick crying?
Damian: I was trying to explain that I could handle the Las Vegas mission on my own by virtue of my substantial body count.
Steph [starting into the five stages of grief]:
Steph: Your substantial what.
Jason: *dying for the second time*
Damian: What in the world are you all going on about?
Jason: *still laughing into his elbow*
Steph: Uh-huh. I really need you to explain yourself right now, bucko.
Damian: Oh, you too, Brown?
Damian: For your information, I can actually hold my own–
Jason [wheezing]: PLEASE–
Damian: –in the video game tournament in Las Vegas that I will be infiltrating this weekend. Actually, I have beaten Gordon on Call of Duty at long last, so that means I am actually OVERqualified for the mission.
Tim: Well, congrats. But for YOUR information, body count has another meaning other than a shooting game. So maybe next time you announce that–
Damian: I know what it means, Drake.
Damian: I have another body count other than my top score.
Damian: Because I’ve killed many people.
Dick [throws his head back]: Oh thank GOD–