The truth was that things were not okay back home. Being a super or a vigilante or whatever had always been a legal grey area and a lot of the time they'd gotten away with it in Gotham simply because one police commissioner or another had always known what was going on. It wasn't like that anymore. A lot had changed. And Dick had simply walked away from all of it. He wasn't sure he'd really had much of a choice in the matter but at least his identity had been protected with Spyral.
That's not what he said, though. Instead, he flashed his best smile at Kal and shrugged, "Yeah, it's cool. We've dealt with way worse, right? And it's not like having your secret identity known is the end of the world or anything." It was the hopeless optimism that everyone expected for him and he was happy to provide it. He didn't need to make things heavy or weird and he liked being the little hint of sunshine in a grey and cloudy world.
Dick rubbed at the back of his neck, though, when Kal asked about Bruce. "I guess the Robins aren't a thing yet, where you're from..." he said. "Bruce adopted me when I was ten after my parents died. He trained me to work with him. I took the suit and the name from my parents' circus act. The Flying Graysons. My mom used to call me her little robin. Are they-" Still alive. In some other world. Dick shook his head and tried to rattle his train of thought back into place. "That lasted until I was nineteen and then you and I went on a couple adventures and I took a different name. Jason was Robin after me." Then Tim, Steph, Damian, and Duke.
It was hard, especially with Bruce here now, to keep from saying any more about him. But he wasn't going to ruin the moment with anything as depressing as thoughts. He had a whole himbo allure to maintain.