"No, somehow that never came up," Maria said a little dryly. Bruce loved all his sons - sometimes over their violent protests - but she was never quite sure that he didn't try to protect them by not bringing them up often to the Director of SHIELD. They might be friends, but she had her job, and in both their worlds, family was something to be protected, even if the could protect themselves. "Do I want to know how bats show their displeasure with a particular person?"
A person who didn't exist anymore. She nodded, but there was no pleasure in her grim expression as her hands dug deeper into her pockets. "It was what needed to be done," she said. They all knew that; for family, those who could and those who could not protect themselves. The world knowing that Dick Grayson was Nightwing was bad enough; the world would just be able to trace certain pathways and connection, and their attention would drift from the Bludhaven vigilante to speculation, and no one needed that. Not Bruce, not Sin, and certainly not Sam. They all knew how to sacrifice themselves for the innocent, and it didn't get more straightforward than this.
The man who'd been unmasked as Nightwing didn't exist: with no name to connect, no life to trace in photos and records, he'd just been a pretty face with dark hair and blue eyes. And then he'd been dead, and the world had moved on.
That was all well and good, except for the part where she was eyeing the man in question, judging the bandages and the not-quite-as-fluid grace he moved with: some lingering pain and stiffness there, which was to be expected. "Have you given any thought to what happens next?" she asked in turn. "You probably could live down here, keep up with the nightly activities: change the color of the uniform, coin a new name, people might not catch on." There was an implied 'or' in her voice.