Two-Face frowned at the sight of Robin alone, and slowly he walked over. Sure, there was a fire burning fast behind him, but he knew Harvey would throw a massive fit if he didn’t check up on the lone kid. That, and maybe the kid had even grown on him a little—just maybe. So he walked up behind Robin, grabbing one of his lackeys to drag the burly man along with him, before throwing the guy aside—he was about to get engulfed in fire, and Two-Face did good work to have that man work for him.

He tapped on Robin’s shoulder and stepped in front of the kid, frowning. “Where’s the Bat?” he asked, confused, Harvey starting to bleed into his voice. It was noticeable because he was acting more caring. “He didn’t leave you out here alone, did he? It’s too dark outside for little kids.”

The man, both as himself and Two-Face, knew very well that the Dark Knight likely talked shit about him behind his back to the impressionable mind. Ever since he became a criminal—or villain, whatever they called him nowadays—the vigilante held a mad grudge against him, and with that, all his kids. Especially Robin, who he knew before this when he was a lawyer. Who was like his own child. No, he was not willing to say what that made him and the Bat if he considered the Robin his own kid.

Picking up a random, screaming, running kid up by the kid, he pried the juice box out of its hand and then let it go, handing the juice box to Robin. “Here, take this, and lets get out of this fire before the Bat starts thinking I’m targeting you.” Like hell he would, this was the exact type of kid he wished to have with Gilda when they were still together.

Maybe in another universe, he and Gilda would have adopted this kid. Maybe in another universe, he’d be soft and gentle, and all three of them would live together in the house he bought before everything turned awry. But that was just Harvey’s delusions and wants speaking.

If only.