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“Don't say it and jinx us,” Red Hood said grimly, and yeah, Duke knew that was a good idea. Threats had a way of quickly becoming larger in Gotham. He still snapped a picture before they moved into action.
“It might be worth it,” Spoiler said cheerfully, and then, “Fine! Of course I know better! Let’s just get this done!”
Duke waited for something to go wrong in the fight that followed. Sometimes things that looked innocuous could pack a punch, especially where magic was involved, and these indoor miniature waterspouts were definitely magic. But he wasn’t knocked off his feet by one, and they didn’t grow larger, and they weren’t sentient, or made of acid rain, or a vortex to a pocket dimension. All three of them got a little damp from the mist, but none of them even got drenched as they dodged their way through the waterspouts to the magician.
“Don’t say anything,” Red Hood warned when they had the magician tied up, all the waterspouts collapsed into puddles. Small puddles.
“We know!” Spoiler exclaimed. Duke inwardly agreed. They were all professionals.
So it wasn’t until the Cave, when they had changed out of their uniforms and put them in the dryer, and Batman asked what they’d encountered, that Steph could squeal, “The cutest itsy-bitsy baby waterspouts!”
“I got a picture,” Duke said. “With the chair in the background for scale, see? They were maybe knee-high? Not very fast, either.”
“Estimated threat level?” Batman rumbled.
“What threat level?” Jason said sardonically. “It was, like, negative point two five.”
Steph gasped and reprimanded, “Jason.”
“What?” Jason said.
Steph was shooting a conspiratorial glance Duke’s way, so he followed his cue: shrugged and shook his head sadly and said, “Not cool, man. You just jinxed us for next time.”