Batman's fault? Robin looked over at her as a booted foot connected with the chest of the last standing gunman on his side. Confusion visible even with his domino mask. How ?...nevermind. Understanding that would put him uncomfortably close to the other side of the line.
Once the movement stopped Tim was able to get a good look around and dust off his black gloved hands. "Those are the ones." Then she was talking down to him and Robin gave her a dry look. "Believe what you want." He said as he stepped over a body and kicked a gun out of the way of his hands walking toward her but not within to much distance. She was still dangerous, helping hand or not. The big gun wasn't exactly a turn on. Tim hated guns. He knelt down by the one she shot who was groaning in pain and holding the wound. "Help's on the way." He said before standing and dialing the emergency button on his cellphone. He didn't have an L.A.P.D. contact just yet, so it would have to do. He left an anonymous tip.
"Your not exactly at the top of my Best Friend list." His tone was questioning. What was her game, since when did Harley Quinn care weather Robin, punk kid sidekick of Batman like her.