Jason, standing between the theater seats, had his mouth open wide enough to fit an egg inside. Before he could speak, Bruce's voice came from behind him. "That isn't you, just as this me isn't me."
Jason turned and saw eyes that looked especially blue beneath the screen's light. His lips parted, then he seemed to lose focus. After a while, he lowered his gaze and said, "No. Maybe that would be the future me."
"No matter how romantic the inspirational stories in books are, they don't happen to ordinary people. I wouldn't put on a tie and go work on Wall Street."
"I'd only be like any ordinary member of Gotham's Children's Gang, waiting to be picked by a gang. The best outcome would be getting a gun, storming the previous boss's office and killing him, then taking his seat myself."
Barry felt his heart wrench violently. He regretted saying that name the moment it left his mouth, but he also knew Jason would figure it out sooner or later. Then, as if he had suddenly remembered something, he went blank for a moment and murmured involuntarily, "And the worst outcome..."
"No, Jason, that isn't you." Barry immediately turned to the little boy. "Nothing that happened to him has anything to do with you. You're separated by a distance greater than the distance between universes. No matter what you hear, it's only a story."
Bruce fixed Barry with a blazing stare. He understood what Barry had left unsaid, but Barry seemed to let out a breath of relief. "No, it's fine. Batman won't say it. At least, not in front of him. It's fine..."
Bruce slowly withdrew his gaze. He had already guessed it. A terrible tragedy must have happened to Jason in another universe. The irritability and aggression