Dick wasn't a morning person. At all. But there had been a lot fewer late-night patrols and staying up until dawn here, so he had steadily fallen into a rhythm that could almost be confused with normal. And this was Diana. There was little he wouldn't do if Diana asked him to. Getting up for breakfast was no big deal.
He was still in his pajamas, though. Black pants tied at the waist and a navy blue t-shirt with a bleach stain on the hem. He'd made two cups of coffee - on in his cup and one in the one he intended to give to her - and had them both carefully clenched in one hand while the other balanced a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He had been through all the many many varieties of cereal this kitchen provided and had inevitably fallen back on old faithful. No reason to fix something that wasn't broken. Though if he had waited an hour he could have had the full spread that Slade liked to make every morning. And he probably still would. Dick was a bottomless well when it came to food, but the sheer amount of activity and enthusiasm he possessed burned it all off anyway.
With his hands full, he could wave at her, so he just made his way over to her table with his trademarked dopey smile and his hair a little tousled, setting the coffee mugs down first and then sliding into a chair across from her with his cereal bowl still cradled in his hand. It was weird to recognize her but to know she didn't recognize him. Fortunately the same had been true with Rose a few months ago and he was used to the feeling. And, like he'd told Jason, the perk of the Justice League not remembering him meant that maybe he could get back in on the poker game that Clark had kicked him out of.
"Morning," he chirped. "I'm uh- Dick Grayson. Robin. Nightwing. Sometimes also Batman. But mostly the first two."