Red Robin's cases were the only ones to ever go this spectacularly off the fucking rails. Who else got themselves embroiled in the kind of dramatic, cross-continental bullshit that would take both the entire family and the League of Assassins to tackle?

More to the point; who else could make a phone call and get Ra's al Ghul and his best team on a Bat-jet to Singapore in under twenty-four hours? No one. Tim was just special like that.

Not that anyone was particularly happy with the arrangement. Damian kept pacing the far side of the cabin, shooting sidelong looks at the assassins standing sentinel around his grandfather. Jason was openly glaring, fingers drumming on his thigh holster. Everyone else was in varying states of warily observing their supposed allies from a distance, excepting Batman himself, who was pointedly ignoring them.

Tim, sans domino, finally emerged from the front of the plane, where he'd been since takeoff.

"Ah, Timothy, you join us at last," Ra's purred, voice cutting through the tension like a knife through water.

"Ra's," he greeted with a vague inclination of his head.

"You're looking tired, these days," the Demon's Head lamented. "I would have hoped to see you taking better care of yourself, dear Detective. Especially considering the circumstances."

"Couldja keep your creepy pet names to yourself?" Jason scowled. "I get that Timmy lifting your restraining order is a big deal an' all, but we really don't need to hear about it."

Ra's regarded Jason with an expression of pure disdain, upper lip curled.

"Despite your rather crude estimations of my character, I was actually referring to the young detective's imminent engagement to my grandson."

The cabin went eerily still.

"I'm sorry," Dick said. "His what?"

Ra's cocked a brow, which telegraphed a measure of genuine surprise.

"I was under the impression you would have told your family by now, Timothy," he said, mildly. "You were more than forthcoming with me."

Dick made a strangled noise that might've been words, in another lifetime.

"Yes, well," Tim bit out between his teeth. "You were trying to bribe me with a League bride at the time."

Another horrified noise escaped Dick, only to be overshadowed by Stephanie squawking; "He was what?!" The pair eyed the group of silent assassins flanking the Demon's Head, suddenly several degrees more wary than they had been previously. ( Which was sort of concerning, if Tim thought about it. )

"I did apologize for that," Ra's said, unconcerned. "Had I been aware of your courtship with my grandson, I wouldn't have insulted you with such an offer."

The grandson in question finally seemed to regain himself enough to join the conversation.

"Grandfather, enough!" Damian snapped, lurching a step forward before catching himself.

The gathered assassins shifted in one, eerily silent wave, only to right their posture at an offhanded sign from their master. Neither gesture did anything to help the mounting tension.

"Hush, boy. Your courtship attempts have clearly been lackluster, if Timothy is so hesitant to bring your relationship to light."

"That is not why-!" Damian spluttered. "I am not court- We are dating, grandfather!"

"Semantics," he waved a hand.

It was difficult to say which was making this whole interaction more awkward; the presence of the League, watching everything in silent judgment, or the gawking vigilantes. Possibly, it was the increasingly dark shadow consuming the Batman's expression from where he lurked on the other side of the jet, whiteout gaze boring into the side of Red Robin's head.

Ra's utterly unaffected, continued to lament;

"I admit, I am somewhat disheartened you've yet to make use of any of the traditional gifts. Your mother raised you to treat your betrothed better than that, grandson."

"The League's traditions are oftentimes invasive, if not outright barbaric," Damian snapped. "Which is ignoring the more pertinent factor, which is that I am not of the League."

"Yes, well," Ra's sniffed. "I suppose an embryonic chamber would make as good a wedding gift as a gesture of courtship."

"I'm fuckin' sorry," Jason interjected. "Are you offering to let them grow a kid?"

"You needn't look so disturbed, Todd. The outcome is, clearly," he gestured in his grandson's direction. "Not disappointing."

Tim growled something that sounded suspiciously like; "Adoption is a fucking thing, Ra's."

"I'm sorry, hold on-" Dick held his hands up in the universal time out sign. "Can we backtrack to the bit where Tim is courting-"

"Dating," Tim groaned.

"Dating Damian? As in Damian Wayne-"

"Al Ghul."

"Wayne," Dick repeated, loudly.

"You don't even get along!" Stephanie pointed an accusing finger at Tim. "You try to kill each other all the time!"

"We do not!"

"Literally last week you-"

"We spar, Steph!"

"And you argue! We all hear it on patrol, and-" she gasped. "Oh. My. God. You're flirting!"

Batman moved suddenly, looming over his brood of former sidekicks.

"Robin," he said tersely. "Red Robin."

Tim took one look at his mentor and turned on his heel, marching back into the plane's cockpit without another word. Batman followed him, leaving the rest of the jet's occupants to watch him go; all save for Damian, who stared longingly at the emergency exit.

"At this altitude, you would have only a thirty percent chance of landing without grievous injury," Ra's said, tone suggesting he was discussing the weather.

Damian sighed mournfully as every set of whiteout covered eyes swiveled to him.

"Almost worth the odds."