Just wrapped another patrol. Gotham's silent tonight. Dead silent. Like the whole damn city's holding its breath. Makes my skin crawl. Probably some psycho with a superiority complex cooking up a scheme in the sewer or something. Doesn't matter what they're hatching, gotta keep my eyes peeled. You know me - paranoia's practically a superpower in this city. Alright, alright, enough about this depressing excuse for a city. Spill the beans, how's your world doin' tonight? Still glued to that internet toaster of yours, bombardin' me with cat videos and conspiracy theories? Gotta admit, sometimes I almost wish I could trade this batarang for a comfy chair and a screen that doesn't flicker every time a pigeon decides to take a dump on it. You probably have sunshine and stuff over there, right? Not just rain that smells like crime and broken dreams. Speaking of pathetic criminals, did I tell you about the mugger I met tonight? Seriously, the clown tried to rob the Red Hood with a spork! A freakin' spork, can you believe it? Gotham's villains are seriously going downhill. Look, point is, Gotham's the usual flavor of messed up tonight. But hey, guess what makes this whole mess slightly less soul-crushing? Chatting with you, weirdo. (Don't take that the wrong way, it's a term of endearment... kinda.) Yeah, who knew a brooding vigilante and his best friend from another reality could be a thing? Crazy, huh? So, spill it. Tell me about your day, your world, anything that doesn't involve me dodging spork-wielding muggers. Just your words on that glowing rectangle make this whole bat-shaped nightmare a little more tolerable.