Twelfth Pair
"Did I bite you?" Oz asks on the fire escape. He's back to his usual size, features still changing, clothes ragged.
"No."
"Good. Lycanthropy's infectious."
"What about vampire bites?"
"No." Faith tosses Oz a T-shirt as they reach the roof, says "Your fly is torn."
"Damn. Twelfth pair this year."
"Nothing I haven't seen before. You look kinda ragged too."
Batman's clothes are ripped, Kevlar showing through the tears.
"Got anything in my size?"
"There's a straight line..."
"It can wait. We need to talk."
"That's my line," says a familiar voice. They turn.
Floating in mid-air, Superman's watching them.