Dropping the bag in front of the youngest Wayne as he sat, running a whetstone along the blade of his prized sword, Stephanie put her hands on her hips, grinning down at him with wicked intent.
“It has recently come to my attention that you have yet to be informed of the tradition, Gremlin.”
Not even raising his eyes from the blade, turning his entire body away from the blonde with a dismissive tut, Damian huffs.
“If you are involved with it Brown, it’s hardly a tradition worthy of anything.”
Rolling her eyes and shifting her weight to one leg, unphased by the barbs by now, she continued.
“This is a proud, and mighty tradition, young man! One you must partake in if you wish to call yourself a TRUE Robin. Started by Grayson himself!
His shoulders stiffen slightly. She had him on the hook. Now to just reel him in.
“But I understand if you’re too afraid. Not everyone is brave enough-”
She didn’t have to finish. Whipping around, sword pointed at her, eyes narrowed.
“I am no coward Brown, and I am the only true Robin. What is this 'Tradition'?”
She pushed the blade aside, unphased, and tipped the bag out, the grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
She whispered, looking down at Damian as they crept into position. His skepticism remained, yet he followed along, the prompting of ‘true Robin’ status doing it’s job from the one he considered a ‘non Robin’.
“I am always ready, Brown.”
Handing him the paper bag, Stephanie peered around the corner, checked the time, and looked back to Damian.
“You understand the plan?”
An annoyed tutting, his cheeks puffing out.
“I’m not a simpleton.”
"Alright, alright. Because the timing has to be perfect. We only have a few second window for this to work. He’ll still be drowsy and have his guard down, but the second we drop the smoke-”
Sighing and rolling his eyes at her, Damian just shook his head slightly.
“Yes, I know. You’ve said. Repeatedly.”
“I want your first bat-prank to go right, ok? So sue me.”
She hissed. Hearing the door click open down the hall, and instinctively slapping each other repeatedly on the arm, the plan was sprung.
Both Stephanie and Damian barreled down the hallway, Stephanie pelting a smoke pellet at the feet of the still waking up Bruce Wayne.
As she continued to run past him, following up with a water balloon filled with glue, hearing it hit its sleepy, confused mark.
Damian finished up, following through with the paper bag, flinging its contents on him.
“Good morning Father!”
She could almost have sworn there was a laugh in his voice as he said it.
Reaching the end of the hall, she pushed Damian onwards, as the smoke began to clear.
“You’re a real Robin now. Be free, little bird. Time for me to do my real part here.”
Came the roar from behind them.
Frowning in confusion, Damian was silenced before he could speak.
“It’s my job as former Robin to get you into trouble, and out of it. Now go. I’ll send you a picture of his face…”
Turning and grinning back down the hall she shoved Damian again.
“Heeey B…. I love the new look. The feathers and glitter are a bit out of character for you, but I like them…”