And then Hardison clicks to the next slide. "Of course, now the company had been bought by the Wayne Enterprises," he says slowly and pointedly, and all the others suddenly sit up, the focus of their attention shifting and narrowing. "No," Sophie says. Eliot nods once, sharply, and Parker does a rather good impression of one of those boggling-head-dolls, agreeing completely.

"On the bright side," Dick says as he shimmies down the building, "You didn't raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers."

Krypto likes to take care of Kon as much as Kon likes to take care of Krypto. When Kon is hungry, Krypto fetches him food. When Kon is sleepy, Krypto fetches him blankets. And when Kon is horny, Krypto fetches him Tim. Which leaves Kon the not-so-fun job of awkwardly explaining to Red Robin why he's been dragged to Smallville in the middle of the night by a well-meaning superdog.

"Why does Ra's know how old my piercings are?" Tim asks, and does he know where they are.

Jason has small, meaningless interactions with his family. The media outlets of Gotham disagree.

Thanks for the spank bank material, replacement, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant for me.

"Timmers sucked me pregnant," Jason blurts, and Tim watches in morbid fascination as Bruce goes through the five stages of grief in a millisecond. "I thought you said you weren't… sleeping together," Bruce says reproachfully. "He means that I, uh, impregnated him with my teeth. When I drank his blood. No sex involved," Tim explains. "It was an accident. I didn't even know I could do that."

Tim gets off on getting off in public, and Jay happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. …Or, actually, maybe it's exactly the right place at the right time.

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.

“Repeat that,” Tim says slowly. Kon gives him a defensive look. “I panicked, okay?” he repeats. “And ‘panicking’ meant you decided to kidnap . . . how many kids, exactly?”

"Crap!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!" Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from the kid that he is currently pinning into the street as said kid struggles underneath him. "'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer. . . . um. Whoops. "Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin. "Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before.