"Freshly baked Robin might not be so bad?" He chuckled again and plopped down on one of the seats beside the mass of snacks Wally had accrued. "Maybe I’m ahead of you in the timeline?" Dick shrugged and pulled the bread toward him to make a sandwich of his own.
"Yeah, at the Consulate. That’s the building where Tim and I live." He explained, twirling the knife in his hand before loading it with peanut butter, "Threshold, run by Elliot and Margo. I dance there some nights, just to keep myself limber. El makes insanely good cocktails, if he likes you enough he’ll make you a signature drink. But I don’t know if he can make something to get you drunk."