Bruce's head popped up as the voice echoed down the stairs. Only two people had ever come down while he was here: Grant, and Mrs. Lance, his friend, and a woman Bruce knew to be the former Black Canary. He had learned to respect her quite a lot. He'd researched her career, as well as her husband's, but it was less that that impressed him, and more her no nonsense demeanor, sharp eye, and good heart.
Yes, he liked her. So he recognized her daughter immediately from times when he'd seen her at the gym on his way in and out. A daughter he'd been explicitly warned, by both Grant and Mrs. Lance, to keep clear of. Dinah Jr. was nineteen, and there hadn't seemed to be any likelihood there, pretty though she was. Until now.
Bruce shot up and took one step back into the barbell behind him. Thus prevented from retreating, he had an excuse to observe her. She was pretty - in a, 'she's going to be trouble someday', sort of way. Furthermore, she knew it. Her wide eyes weren't as innocent as she wanted them to be.
"Would you have come if there wasn't?" he asked, curious.