Dick would have obliged--or laughed, one of the two--except he was learning a very important lesson: when someone ran up a hill, the force of the run kept you flattened in place. When someone walked up a hill, the only thing holding you there was strength.
Kisame had plenty, but suddenly gravity without centrifugal force meant Dick was shifting, legs falling toward the ground, changing the way Kisame held him. He felt rather like he was about to fall off one side or the other, and gave a highly indignifed yelp as he twisted to grab hold of the man's shirt with his free hand.
THEN he started laughing.
Eventually he even released his death grip long enough to reach up and scoop the kitten off Kisame's face, shifting before he did so so that the bulk of his torso lay firmly against the chest underneath him, trying not to think about how impossible this was.
Why it was impossible walking, and not running, was something no one would ever understand.
Muscles shifted under him, slightly different than they did when a man walked upright, and made his grip tighten in Kisame's shirt, the cat tucked safely between their chests. "Jesus, man, if you drop me..." Dick tried not to look down.
Swinging along skyscrapers with only a line and his grip to keep him safe seemed much more stable than this.