Tim hadn't slept in 3 days, so when he stumbled into the living room with an apple resting on a cutting board and a tween magazine, Damian and Bruce tried to ignore it.
He took one look at the couch and decided that the floor looked comfier. Damian wasn't complaining. More room for him.
Bruce was reading the sports section of the daily newspaper before Tim sighed loudly. He ignored the first few, but by the 6th one in a row, he asked what his problem was.
"Oh, nothing," he answered sarcastically.
"Spill it, Drake," Damian chimed in from the kitchen where he too was getting an apple.
Tim waited to answer until Damian had his apple in his mouth.
"What if trees cried because we started eating their fruit, and their fruit is basically their babies. So every time we eat an apple or something, we're eating a tree baby?"
Damian swiftly spit the chunk of apple he was chewing across the room, just narrowly missing the back of Bruce's head. He waited another moment, and then chucked the remainder of the apple he was holding at Tim's face.
Bruce, not even looking up from the newspaper, huffed in annoyance.
"We're eating their ovaries, actually," he stated factually, waiting for the sound of his son's horrid screams.