"Or what?" He leveled a challenging stare to him, folding his arms across his chest. "You'll glare at me? You never took good enough care of yourself to be a genuine physical threat." He'd never gone after Riddler for that enough when he was still working for him, and at any other time he probably still would; but he was irrationally angry (and he knew it, and was doing nothing to curb or soften it) and Riddler really wasn't that intimidating. Really.

His own shadow magic was-- quivering wasn't the word. Shaking. Coalescing. Condensing into a sickly, sticky black mass under his feet.

"And besides. After the panic you sent us all in disappearing? I think we deserve an answer." Never mind that he was all that was left of the we.