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Allen nudged Harley gently by his shoulder as he watched Barbara glare at him.
He couldn't help but chuckle, clearly amused by the tension.
"Hahaha"
Harley herself didn't say anything yet.
She kept a smile, as he had nudged her, so she took it as a joke.
"Why are you laughing?" she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.
"After taking advantage of her, you say she has nothing to do with you. You're a bastard! Scum! Trash!" Barbara shouted angrily; her words laced with emotion.
Allen's casual response had clearly hit a nerve, pushing her to the edge.
"I'm a bastard, scum, trash—fine, no problem. I'll wear those titles proudly if it helps you sleep at night. But again, what's that got to do with you?" Allen asked with a smirk, squinting at Barbara as if he found the whole scene more entertaining than offensive.
"Why am I laughing? Because you don't look like you're mad for her. You look more like a woman who was dumped after being used and tossed aside. But honestly," he added with a sly grin, "I can't remember ever having a thing with you... though, I wouldn't have minded it!"
"I would never get involved with a bastard like you!" Barbara was quick to reply, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.
'This guy… if only I could give him just one punch…'
Allen simply shrugged, completely unconcerned.
"So, are you here to recruit me to help save Gotham, or just to insult me with a bunch of lines you rehearsed in front of a mirror?"
"..."
Barbara bit her tongue, visibly frustrated.
After a long pause, she muttered, "Don't flatter yourself. I don't need you. I can save Gotham without your help."
"You can't."
Allen raised his hand and pointed directly at her, his voice calm but unwavering.
"The last time you came to me with that lame setup, it was all just to get my help fighting Bane or tracking down the paralyzed Batman. And it didn't end well for you, did it?"
He chuckled dryly and added.
"By the way, stop wasting smoke bombs when you leave. You're not in a Saturday morning cartoon."
Barbara's expression shifted subtly under the bat mask—half embarrassed from being mocked, half surprised.
'Batman is paralyzed?'
'How does he know that?'
"You could have just shown up like a normal person, but no, you had to sneak onto rooftops and lurk in shadows like some brooding phantom, pretending to be mysterious. Typical Batman behavior."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice casual but sharp as a blade.
"You're revealing your identity now, even appearing as Batgirl in broad daylight. Why? Either you're so confident you don't care about exposure anymore, or... you're desperate."
"Since Batman hasn't recovered yet, and now you're here again—this time openly—it all adds up to one thing."
"You can't save Gotham alone. You need my help."
Allen stared at her and grinned smugly.
"So instead of yelling at me like a scorned ex, shouldn't you be begging me to help you? Where did you get the courage to insult me?"
Harley Quinn blinked beside him. "So, you did mind her calling you scum!"
"Can't just allow her to insult me free of charge after all," Allen said offhandedly, not missing a beat.
"Haha?" Harley laughed.
Barbara was speechless.
She hadn't expected Allen to break everything down so perfectly, like he'd already written the script and she was just acting in it.
After their last meeting, Barbara hadn't even told her father, Commissioner Gordon, about Allen—too embarrassed to explain how badly it had gone.
But as Gotham's situation continued to spiral further out of control, and Gordon prepared to rally every remaining force in the city, Barbara finally brought up Allen.
Of course, Gordon had heard about the mysterious man with the deadly aim and his crazy driving tendencies.
He also knew the full extent of his daughter's skills, honed under Batman's rigorous training.
Still, Gordon suspected Allen might be even stronger.
And in desperate times like these, Gotham needed every ounce of strength it could get.
That's why Barbara had come to Allen now, despite everything.
Before she left, she had repeatedly told herself to stay calm, for the sake of the city.
But the moment she laid eyes on him, all that resolve evaporated like mist in sunlight.
Barbara took a deep breath to steady herself and met Allen's eyes.
"If you're willing to help us save Gotham, I'm willing to apologize."
"You really put on that noble act like you're sacrificing yourself for the city," Allen laughed and clapped mockingly.
"What, so if I didn't agree to help, you wouldn't apologize? You thought I'd just take your insults and let it slide like I'm some doormat?"
Barbara opened her mouth to argue, but Allen waved dismissively.
"No need to explain. I actually don't even need your apology. You want my help? Fine. Answer one question."
'He'll help us just like that?' She thought with suspicion.
"You can ask," Barbara said, serious now.
Allen smirked, the corner of his mouth curling with mischief.
"A close brother of mine, very close, was suddenly hit by a 'hard' case of fever and his body 'stiffened'. I didn't know what to do, so I shook him hard and told him to hang on. Then he started convulsing and vomited. I helped clean him up, but afterward, he became sluggish, listless, and curled up into a ball."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Tell me, what do you think that is?"
'Wait… what?'
'A medical question?'
Barbara ran the symptoms through her head.
Serious fever, stiff body, vomiting, lethargy...
'Could it be heatstroke? A cold? Was this some kind of trick?'
She mentally reread every detail, searching for a hidden meaning or trap—but found none.
After a few moments of silent thought, she asked cautiously.
"If I get it right, you'll help us save Gotham?"
"Yes," Allen nodded without hesitation.
"And if I get it wrong?"
"I'll ask the next question," he replied smoothly.
Barbara hesitated, then gave her answer with quiet uncertainty.
"Is it... a cold?"
"Congratulations..." Allen started with a wide grin.
Barbara held her breath, nerves on edge.
'Was I right?'
But then he continued, "...You got it wrong!"
'Wrong?'
Barbara blinked, stunned and confused.
'If it wasn't a cold, then what was it?'
"What's the answer?" she asked, completely lost now, her tone more baffled than angry.