His box of toys was wearing low by the time Riddler passed him. He wasn’t paying attention; the colors bursting and blinking in the air were far more attention-grabbing, although some stuck to his hands as if they were covered in glue. They were released with a few flaps or shakes, though, to go explode a safe distance from his face.

Of course, his good mood couldn’t last. A small black – thing knocked into his hands and smacked the sparkler into his arm, leaving a burn and a small, burning ember of anger in the back of his mind.

“Hey! What was that for?” He could—and would!—have said more, but... Riddler. And all of a sudden, he was weighting his words again, just like he was still working for him. But he didn’t, not anymore, and he could say whatever he wanted. “Did you even know someone was already up here?”