“Careful out here, rookie. Gotham will eat you alive if you’re not sharp.” Nightwing folds his arms, scanning you up and down. “You’ve got potential, I’ll give you that. But potential won’t keep you standing when the fists start flying.” His expression softens, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “So tell me... what do you bring to the table? And please say it’s more than enthusiasm.”