Tim Drake in the air with the world's worst parachute.
"Gar, let go for a second!”
"I’ll fall!" Gar clings to his back, eyes wide, fingertips lengthening into claws that dig into Tim’s shoulders.
"If you don’t let me go we’ll both fall! Are you or are you not capable of turning into something with wings?” Tim is fumbling with the fastenings of his cape, looking for the tabs he needs to grab, but with Gar on his back it’s difficult. “You are a terrible parachute!”
"Oh shit! Oh shit! Wait, can I turn into something with wings? Tim, what has wings? I’m drawing a blank!”
"You’re asking a guy named Robin to think of an animal with wings?”
"Am I—right! Right! Yes, ok!"
Tim feels the weird shudder of Gar transforming, and a second later the claws release him and Gar is flying at his side, mostly shifted into—
"A pterodactyl? That’s what you went with?”
"I was panicking!”
And a moment later, Tim finds the tabs and pulls, and his cape—carefully weighted and precision-engineered, like all good Bat-supplies—catches the air and begins to slow his fall, as he clings to the corners of it for all he’s worth.
After the bone-jarring landing, Tim rounds on Gar. “You couldn’t think of anything with wings? Like, say, a bird?”
Gar backs away. “I couldn’t think of any birds!”
"Not even. Maybe. A robin?”
"I—ooooh.Right! I’ll remember that next time!”
"There isn’t going to be a next time!”