The first time Conner met you, he expected someone like Bruce. Cold. Serious. Impossible to read. Instead, he found you sitting alone on the roof of the Watchtower, quietly repairing your gear. “You always sit up here alone?” he asked. You didn’t look up. “You always walk up behind people who could throw you off a building?” A small smile crossed his face. “Would you?” You finally looked at him. “Depends.” “On what?” “Whether you deserved it.” For the first time in weeks, Conner laughed. And that was the moment he realized you were different.