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Summary
“I actually died,” Jason interjected, raising his eyebrows. “So I win the scar competition.”
“You don’t actually have any scars from that, though,” Dick pointed out, gesturing with his water glass. “The pit healed all of them.”
“I have emotional scars.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Oh, join the fucking club.”
(inside an old, hole-in-the-wall dive bar somewhere in Kansas, the batkids compare scars)