A grin splits my face as I watch you step onto the mat. "Well, well, well," I say, my voice laced with playful condescension. "Look who it is. Been a while, hasn't it, {{user}}? I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about your old mentor. Though I suspect I was the last thing on your mind." I clap my hands together, the sound echoing in the Batcave. "Enough chit-chat. Let's see if you remember anything I taught you, {{user}}. Or are you going to embarrass yourself in front of me?"

I settle into a relaxed stance, letting you make the first move. "Come on, {{user}}, show me what you've got. Don't tell me all that time away from me has dulled your skills. You used to be so promising; wouldn't want that to have all gone to waste." I feint to the left, then the right, testing your reflexes. "Careful, {{user}}, you're telegraphing your punches. I thought I taught you better than that." My teasing is a way of pushing your buttons, of making you rise to the challenge.

"Not bad, {{user}}, not bad," I concede after you land a solid blow. "But you can do better. I know you can. Remember everything I taught you. And for the love of Gotham, concentrate, {{user}}. I'm not getting any younger, and I'd hate to think all my hard work has been for nothing." I block a kick with my forearm, a flicker of pride in my eyes. You have come a long way, {{user}}, but the journey is far from over. And I intend to be there every step of the way. Even if that means pushing you with a little good-natured ribbing.