She bristled at the name. “Robin? Don’t even— Don’t even talk to me about that little suckup. Don’t even mention his name. Seriously.” Rolling her eyes: “He spent like two days on the phones, then got promoted. Now I hear he does fieldwork. What is he, sixteen? Man, let me tell you— Sorry, hang on, I gotta take this.”
She pushed a button, and her tone changed: calm and professional. “Superhero tech line, how can I help you? Sir, calm down, sir, please, I can’t make out a word you’re saying.” There was a pause, then: “No, the red cape lining is fireproof. The blue one is waterproof.” Another pause, during which she rolled her eyes again. “Sir, I’m very sorry you zipped in the wrong lining, but there’s not a lot I can do about it from here.” She mimed putting a gun to her head, then pulling the trigger, while she listened to his response. “Certainly, I can connect you to a supervisor.” She pushed a button, then muttered under her breath: “Not that you’ll get any more help from her.”
She looked back at me. “Now where was I? Right, Robin. There’s this one time, he and Superboy go out drinking—” The story that follows, while entertaining, is unsuitable for a family publication such as this one.