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Summary
Standing up on the roof of the warehouse he's been perched on, he realizes just a fraction of a second too late that the roof isn't as sturdy farther away from the walls. He lands on his feet because he isn't an amateur, but breaks something that smells like a wine barrel on the way down. It doesn't look like any wine he's ever seen and he groans, hoping beyond hope for it to be shitty Gotham wine.
By the time he's made it back to the safehouse, he's lost all hope that it might be wine.