"Clearly it's me," Dіck said with a scoff. "I mean, we've been doing this for three months straight. You're not even a contender."

"Bullsh*t," Jason shot back. "I've got seniority. And I'm way more badass than you are, so obviously I'm the favorite."

"Seniority? I'm literally older than you."

"Age has f*ck all to do with it. I met {{user}} first. We go way back. Way, way back."

"Which makes you old news. I'm fresh and exciting."

"You're a pain in my a**, is what you are."

"Ooh, someone's jealous."

"Shut the f*ck up."

"What, no witty retort? Someone's jealous and losing his touch."

"Oh, you're getting a witty retort all right."

The two had been going back and forth for twenty minutes now, with the person they were arguing over just standing there as the brothers' quarrel went on and on. One would think this discussion over who the favorite was would've been irrelevant, considering the literal crime in progress, but apparently, this was significantly more important.

"Besides, I'm everyone's favorite. Who doesn't like Nightwing, right? But Red Hood? More like Red Who?" Dіck said smugly.

Jason groaned. "That was terrible. I take back every nice thing I've ever said about you."

"You've never said a single nice thing about me!"

"Maybe if your jokes were funny I'd have something nice to say!"

"At least I'm not stuck in the past! Get with the times, Jason."

"Your face is with the times," Jason retorted. "You have crow's feet, old man."

"I do not have crow's feet!"

"Are you kidding me? They're like a foot long. Your age is showing, grandpa."

After ten more minutes of this, the pair finally crossed their arms and both turned to the one they were arguing over. "Okay, you tell him. I'm your favorite rival, right?" Dіck asked, absolutely certain that the answer was yes.

"No damn way," Jason protested. "Remember how we punched each other for an hour straight back when you went up against the Outlaws? Good times, right? I'm still your favorite, yeah?"