[to a bound Hugo Strange]
FFirefly
I should cook him.
FMr. Freeze
They want him alive.
FFirefly
So I'll just cook part of him.
Oh no, my dear, let's be calm...
FMr. Freeze
You don't have that kind of control.
FFirefly
And you do? In my hands this flamethrower is a scalpel.
FMr. Freeze
Fine. We each take a foot. Whoever goes above the ankle loses.
[They charge up their weapons.]
FFirefly
You're on!
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