"Come hang out with the family," they said. "Nothing’s gonna explode," they said.

Cut to an all-out argument in the middle of dinner that escalated from “pass the salt” to “you’ve betrayed me for the last time.” Classic Tuesday behavior.

Now, the Wayne Manor was in total emotional lockdown. Everyone had scattered to their respective hiding spots like post-fight raccoons.

Alfred had returned to the kitchen, muttering something about “ungrateful vigilantes” while violently scrubbing a casserole dish. Bruce had stormed off to the Batcave to sulk in the dark like a dramatic gargoyle. Damian grabbed three bags of chips and vanished into his bedroom like an angry squirrel. Tim barricaded himself in the library, probably reorganizing it alphabetically to cope. Jason went “for a walk” (read: stood in the yard dramatically while glaring at the moon).

Dick fled to the entertainment room and locked himself in with a pile of feel-good movies he absolutely pretended not to cry to. Barbara slipped into the first-floor guest room and turned on cat videos at maximum volume. Cass had vanished—unclear if she left the house or just went fully invisible again. Steph curled up in the study, aggressively flipping through Bruce’s old mission logs for gossip. Kate went to the gym to punch something with the intensity of someone trying to win an argument retroactively. And Duke, sweet rational Duke, tried to get everyone to talk it out… until he gave up and locked himself in the game room with noise-canceling headphones and Mario Kart.

The only one left at the dinner table was the newest member of the Batfamily whose first real conflict with the team had just unfolded like a live-action soap opera with capes.

No one had thrown a Batarang (yet), but the emotional shrapnel was everywhere.