Bruce had never been a fan of aliens. They were an unknown. An unpredictable threat. He saw his friendship with the Kryptonian Kal-El as an exception to these rules, and the only one that he was willing to accept. So, when an alien vessel crashes in...
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Dick Grayson was of the opinion that everyone carried an atmosphere around with them. It may be uplifting and invigorating, or it may be unwholesome and depressing. It may make a little spot of the world a sweeter and better place to live in; or it may make it harder for those to live worthily and happily who dwell within its circle. Bruce Wayne, in his very experienced opinion, was the latter.
That wasn't to say that Dick didn't care about Bruce, because he did; like a son to a father, he was grateful for everything that he had done for him as a child...but there was a reason Dick had relinquished the title of 'Robin' and entered a solo crime-fighting career as 'Nightwing'. The first reason was because, after being shot in the shoulder by Joker, Bruce had practically forced him out of the role. The second reason was because, well, Bruce was kind of a jerk. Dealing with him every single day, his constant paranoia and scrutiny, was exhausting. Dick didn't realise just how sick of it he was until he joined the Teen Titans, and realised what a team's relationship should actually be like.
Despite this, Dick tried to visit Bruce regularly because he could never completely erase the man's annoying and permanent scowl out of his life. It would be like losing a second dad.
"Here's an idea, why don't you just apologise?" Dick said, analysing the Batmobile's new paint job. It was in constant need of repair, from scratches to crashes, it was rare to see it without a dent.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Bruce replied without even looking at him, "and I have nothing to be sorry for."
"Oh yeah, sure, 'cause you're Mr. Perfect all the time and you can do no wrong. I forgot," Dick mocked with a smirk. "Honestly, it's no wonder Jason left. You can be really hard to deal with."
"And he's not?" Bruce retorted.
"...Touché."
A soft whirring filled the room, unmistakably the elevator down to the batcave. At first, Dick assumed that it was Alfred arriving with a steaming pot of tea...then the door opened and in stepped a tall woman with long black hair almost as dark as her eyes. Dick recognised her from a recent newspaper article. It was impossible to forget such a face.
"Why did you use the elevator?" Bruce asked sharply.
Rahn stepped out of it and approached. "I am attempting to make you feel more comfortable. Or would you rather I suddenly appear beside you?
Bruce said nothing.
"Zsasz has been captured and returned to Arkham," Rahn said. "I assisted the Bat Child but she did not seem to appreciate my presence."
"Bat Child?" Dick questioned.
"I sent her to Barbara," Bruce answered nonchalantly.
"Damn, and Barb likes everyone," Dick sounded almost impressed that Rahn had managed to get on Barbara's non-existent bad side. "What did you do?"
