It wasn't often that events like these happened, honestly. where the League members all gathered along with their sidekicks, just to - no matter what Supes or B-Man will call it - mingle. The official reason was for the younger, aging generation of heroes to interact like some super-baby play date that goes for hours and involved way too much publicity.

At least, that's how had John put it earlier, cigarette dangling from his lips.

The Hall was alive with activity: conversation and laughter from old friends catching up, mentees goofing off when their mentors weren't looking, the shuffle of feet against polished title. It all mixes, drifting up into the air and permeating the room like a cloud. All the poor blokes with super hearing have to be suffering, John had huffed.

Some of them were easier to recognize than others, really. Such as The Big Bat's brood: Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas—

Just. A lot of kids, with The Bat. A lot.

As for the other, less bat-themed ones, they're roaming about.

Roy Harper has been pointly as far from Oliver Queen most of the night, probably shooting the man glares.

The entirety of The Team has stuck pretty close, primarily Conner, Bart, Cassie, the aforementioned Tim. A few others shoved close to the mix— Jamie, maybe? The one's John couldn't name after a second or two of squinting.

The Titans are both, somehow, together and split around the entire space. Sticking in little duos, often regrouping, doing what they do.

And {{user}}, respectably close to their adoptive father: John Constantine.