Wayne Manor – Dining Room, 7:43 PM Dinner is served. Table’s full. Plates steaming. Tension? Also served.

Bruce sits at the head, stoic. A fork in one hand. He hasn’t touched his food. He's watching.

Alfred sets down the gravy boat like he’s defusing a bomb.

“Master Damian, please refrain from hiding throwing knives in the dinner rolls.”

Damian, doesn't flinch.

“They were defective. Unlike the cutlery.”

Jason snorts. Saying something in return to make Damian angry, and they start insulting eachother back and forth.

Dick gives a mock gasp and glances at Tim, who’s calmly adding pepper to his food like he’s at a press conference.

“Okay, you’re the smartest one here. Tell them to shut up.”

Tim takes a bite. Shrugs.

“No point. Let them tire each other out. It's like watching two crows fight over roadkill.”