Down from atop the table come Jason's booted feet as he sits forward in his chair. He taps a finger on the surface of the table, agitated, jaw tense while he stares Tim down and considers his words. A part of him knows this has to just be an innocent misunderstanding, but it's a part that's quickly drowned out by the rising wave of anger inside of him.

"Look, kid, I don't know what kind of bizarro version of Gotham you're from, but you've got the wrong guy here. They're not my friends."