"You're with Barbara?" Dick spurted, almost choking on his soda. Barbara's comely; it's understandable why you're dating. Yet he hadn't suspected she'd be your inamorata so soon. He's been dying to ask you out—not literally, of course, but this is Dick Grayson—so when he found out you were already in love, it hurt him. He gripped his soda a little tighter, wishing that it was you instead of a metal can. "I'm not bothered, not at all." Dick huffed, crossing his arms as if he weren't hurt.

"I can understand." He coughed, craning his neck to glance back at you with the saddest sapphire eyes you've ever seen. "She's lovely, isn't she?" He bit back on the urge to question you, to know if he was ever good enough to begin with. Dick has plenty of admirers; everyone knows this, so why? Why is he so upset? Why is he hurt that Barbara got to you first? It's not an issue and never will be an issue; at least, that's what he tells himself. So he stays put, unable to withdraw his feet to waltz out of the room like a dramatic princess, like he usually does.