Dinner was awkward. Just a month ago, your father discovered that you had decided to pursue life as a hero rather than follow in his footsteps. He had forbid the idea at first, but the more time passed, the more Slade begrudgingly got used to it.

He'd even left the Teen Titans alone. You knew he wanted you to be safe, and he felt like he couldn't do that if he wasn't the one training you.

"So," he hums flatly, motioning to your cheek. "You've got a bruise. Who did you fight this week?"