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“You’re pulling your punches.”
Robin tosses a closed-eye smirk over his shoulder, and that’s all the acknowledgment he intends to give to the well-meant critique. He knows precisely how much force to use and when, thank you very much—
“I admit I never expected to say these words to you, of all people, but you need to take this seriously.”
That has him pausing in his form, and when he doesn’t get pummeled for the slip, he opens his eyes. Starfire has stepped between him and his sparring partner (Beast Boy, who’s slinking away like he thinks nobody noticed his sloppy footwork; Tim will bring it up later).
He raises his hands in loose fists, but when she doesn’t match his stance, he pretends not to be super relieved about dodging a fight from the majorly-overpowered princess. “I take everything seriously,” he says, letting his hands drop. “I just don’t frown about it like Batman.”
Starfire doesn’t seem impressed with that, and he tries not to sigh. “Look, your Highness, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you stopping by to give some pointers—“
He should’ve known better than to address her by title. Looks like he won’t dodge a fight after all.
Her attack is relentless, and more than once he fails to evade a hit because they’re in stupid broad daylight and the West Coast sun won’t lend him a shadow to fall into. In a real fight, he knows, Raven would help him, but quick glances tell him that all the Titans are just watching. Hard to tell with how quick he has to keep moving, but he’s pretty sure Cyborg literally brought popcorn.
Fine. He’s no performer, but he’ll give them a showstopper.
The next time Starfire, uncharacteristically grim and silent, throws him to the ground and looks like she’s about to deliver some lecture about true strength or something, he borrows one of Dick’s moves and flips to his feet in blatant defiance of gravity. She, of course, knows that move, and she knows Jason’s old take on it, too.
She also knows just how hard Robins can really hit, so he doesn’t feel too bad when he decks her clear across the space and into Cyborg’s popcorn.
It’s worth the schooling that comes right after that, to see her satisfied grin and everyone else’s gaping shock. Even when he’s a pile of bruises and battered dignity, peeling himself off the ground while Starfire lectures his team on making use of any advantage when they’re in unfamiliar territory, he’s going to remember those expressions, that recognition of his ability to hold his own.
(He knows she was thinking of Jason. He knows he’s going to have to prove himself to everyone that knew the prior Robin, everyone that thinks no more Birds should be coming out of Gotham after the last one died. But Gotham is in his veins, now, and she’s not opposed to breaking the rules and giving him a boost when he needs it.)