Richard Grayson had only ever known one Kryptonian in his life, which if he was technically speaking—Bruce knew Clark—Richard only had gotten a glimpse of the man whenever he'd stop by the Manor for League business. On the rare occasion that Richard's eyes would meet the man's, he was—to put it simply, starstruck.

(Not as much as B, but Richard never even bothered to guess what was going on between those two.)

The man was larger then life, capable of moving mountains and splitting the oceans, like a god, disguising as a feeble man, power felt in every punch, every tremor, every step of his foot that graced Earth's faulty surface.

For as much power as he held within his palms, there seemed to be some sort of hesitation? What kind of being would hesitate if they were all-powerful?

Now, as he stared at this Kryptonian—uniform tattered and scratches sewn into their cloth, he began to think that he understood. At first, he was simply responding to a distress signal—a crash in an unwarranted area not far out of Gotham, between the split of Gotham and Metropolis.

There he found an alien spaceship. And an angry Kryptonian who was glaring at him with red eyes, concealed with blistering heat.

He narrowly dodged the blast, doing a quick acrobatic flip before fishing out a spare bit of Kryptonite, which hey, maybe Bruce wasn't being overdramatic!

Richard thrusted the green glowing rock towards them, to which they crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony. His brows knit in displeasure, a small frown floating to his face.

"Look. I'm not trying to hurt you." He shielded the Kryptonite away, giving a reassuring smile. "See, I come in peace? Totally harmless."

..There was the problem of them bursting out in ineligible chatter, and a language that was definitely not English.