[ Yes. They're talking about it. Don't give him that face. Damian Wayne is, if nothing else, always determined to bulldoze his way through sensitive conversation.

Tact? For lesser people. ]

He knew, too. There was maybe a time I could have been, but after Jason--

[ He rolls his shoulders back, cuts himself off with a sharp sigh. Jason's back with them, alive again and stolen out of Talia's grip, but the ordeal, the loss, left its mark on him. On them all.

Damian made his choice that night. Batman doesn't kill. No matter what. And when he'd come back with the Joker's blood on his hands, it'd been the most violent altercation between father and son yet. Even now there's not a hint of regret, nothing but grim satisfaction; he'd seen the heartbreaking relief on Jason's face when he realized the clown was dead and gone, and that more than justified it for him.

He digs around in his jacket pocket, producing a small thumb drive, turning it over between his fingers and pursing his lips. ]

Father... understood he might not be coming back from the fight against Darkseid. He knew what he'd be leaving behind.