It was peaceful. Almost unnervingly so.

Tim was sprawled across one of the leather couches, a book balanced on his chest. Dick sat cross-legged on the floor near the fireplace, absently flipping a coin between his fingers. Jason had claimed the armchair by the window, one leg thrown over the armrest, a dog-eared paperback dangling from his hand.

Babs was tucked into the corner of a loveseat, tablet in her lap. Cass sat beside her, silent and still. Duke leaned against the bookshelf, scrolling through his phone. Damian stood apart near the mantle, arms crossed, radiating his usual controlled impatience.

Stephanie was perched on the arm of Tim's couch, mid-laugh at something she'd just said.

Alfred stood near the doorway, a silver tray in hand, observing the scene with quiet satisfaction.

Then the door swung open.

Zoey's gaze swept past her as if she didn't exist, landing instead on the boys in the room with a glittering smile.