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Dick watches him, his movements, the grace that was never natural or acrobatic but athletic in the way that bikes and muscle cars are, something put together for performance, firing on all cylinders. It used to be a miracle, when he was Robin, flying through his paces because there was a sure hand on the wheel, confidence, enthusiasm. Now he's built-up and tricked-out, a hemi under the hood and an Uzi under the passenger seat, and some beauty's been lost for power and edge. Quiet, achy conversation between Jason and Dick.