Chen Mo opened his mouth.
Finally, he squeezed out, "Then can we hold off on notifying the cake industry? I'm not mentally prepared for a candle attack."
Barbara looked at him.
Dick looked at him too.
The temporary notice on the bulletin board was still flapping. Beside it, someone pocketed their phone, their face dark enough to serve as a backdrop for Gotham's sewers.
"You could start by remembering the date," Barbara said.
"That's asking a lot of someone who just went on a business trip across worlds and worked a night shift at a psychiatric hospital," Chen Mo said. "But I'll try. For example, I'll put my birthday on my schedule, after gang shootouts, unemployed students, underground bird nursery rhymes, and what to eat for lunch today."
"That's awfully far down the list," Dick said quietly.
"It's already pretty high up," Chen Mo said earnestly. "On my quest list, eating has always required high-level clearance."
Barbara glanced at him as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she simply put her phone away.
For the rest of the day's classes, the school kept its voice down.
Gotham was very good at reminding you that life should go on while yanking life itself out from under your feet.
After school, Chen Mo went back to Gordon's House first to drop off his bag.
There was no new note on the table.
There were no new sandwiches in the fridge either.
Excellent.
For now, Gordon's House was free of white-people-food attacks today.
Venom lay quietly against Chen Mo's skin, keeping the edges of his jacket perfectly neat. As Chen Mo passed the window, his steps paused.
Chen Mo fell silent for two seconds, then turned around and took the front door.
Maintaining family relationships started with the little