[The night's cold and clear; a careless exhale will puff out in a gaslit cloud. The ice is clear and slick on some roofs, treacherously cracked and sliding on others. On others yet it's thin, black, rough- nearly invisible against the shingles until that fatal misstep
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Harrumph goes the Dark Knight and he swings off the roof, landing on another and tapping the next tagger on their shoulder, face looking very much like this:
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Tag, you're it. [ ... I'm not sure it's possible for a voice to get any flatter and drier than that. Even Death Valley isn't that dry. ]
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[ROBIN DOWN, ROBIN DOWN. Or at least -- dropped into the shadows below.]
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Such incompetence.
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C'mon, make a move. Leave cover. C'mon.]
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Oh hey, shadow on that other rooftop. They're not It, right? And neither is he (right now) so if he just... sneaks up... behind this person...
just to say] Hey.
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Hi.
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Long time no see.
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Hi.
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So yes, he'll be lurking around on the rooftops in dark, nondescript clothing, trying not to get too involved and yet watch it all.]
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Though eventually, he wolf whistles to catch her attention. Because this is Steph and the one Bat he doesn't feel awkward talking to.]
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Hey, you. Looking sort of shady over here.
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