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Tim catches a flash of color in his peripheral, but he's a bit busy at the moment. "Sorry, gentlemen," duck and twist, and there's his elbow, smack into unprotected ribs, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
A lie, of course, shipping manifests and digital blueprints and a neat little list of names, oh my.
Tim smiles, bares his teeth and oh, look, there's his bo staff. (Selina and her whips, Tim and his bo staff.) And there, down goes the growling thug, Tim's bo staff singing in his hands.
He's aware of a scuffle to his left, the snap of a cape in motion, sound of a fist striking its target. Shifts and turns and -
No.
Bright laughter, a little on the demented side at the end, but the one who's laughing did just kick someone in the face.
Selina had something was strange, something big, but he hadn't really listened. Distracted by thoughts of liberating some information that might be more than anyone, even Batman thought. Tim's starting to think maybe he should have paid more attention.
"Hey!"
Tim sighs, turns to see one of the thugs clinging to the side of a dumpster, half conscious and clearly not a happy camper.
"Who the hell is that?" the thug asks, apparently having seen the error of his ways, or maybe he realizes he's pretty much down for the count.
Tim raises an eyebrow. "Don't you recognize Robin?" and because Tim never claimed to be a nice person, "As in Batman and?"
Who hasn't in Gotham, is the better question.
The thug frowns, teetering a little when he tries to move closer for a better look. "Yeah, but isn't Robin, y'know, taller?"
Well, that and the current Robin is female, but that's not exactly common knowledge at this point, so Tim lets that one slide. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Tim asks. And then when the thug wobbles alarmingly, "Better sit down before you fall down."
The thug blinks at him because yes, this is not really normal behavior on Tim's part, but since when has anyone in this city been considered normal?
"Uh. Right." The thug slides down the side of the dumpster. "...Thanks?"
Tim shrugs, carefully stepping over unconscious bodies to where Robin is taking down the last of the thugs. "Tell Batman whatever he wants to know, you'll save on dentist bills that way," he tells the thug, knowing it's a bit of an exaggeration.
Batman doesn't lose sleep over the number of criminals and thugs missing teeth because of him, but he doesn't set out to add to the number, so. Tim really doesn't know where that line of thought is headed, and he blames -
"Robin." It comes out as a purr, reflex. "So nice to see you."
Robin looks up, goes perfectly still like the small bird he is before a predator. (Lucky for him, Tim's very selective in his prey.)
"Who are you?"
Tim smiles. "Oh, kitten," he says, just to see Dick's reaction, and maybe that's a bad idea given how present Dick treats him. "Have I got a story to tell you."