It's a disarming thing to say, and it shows on Clark's face, characteristically open where Bruce, and apparently his son, are so skilled at staying closed. But staying open is its own skill, and Clark doesn't mind if someone as insightful as Rick Grayson can see: that flicker of surprise, not just for the directness but like he's never framed these concepts in this way; some hint of regret, less easily attributed; apology.

"I love him," he says. Cards on the table, and the circle grows wider. "And I don't think he would."

And would Clark do that, anyway? Only once, so furious it ran cold inside of him, and then never again. He looks at Rick. Wonders if that's it, that's the crux. Change and stagnation. "Would it help to know he's doing all this for the right reason?"