He understood. He did. He knew how important it was to have someone to talk to who understood, even if you couldn't say the words. Who didn't even need you to say them to understand. Who never judged you, was just there, and that presence was enough to make everything clearer.
Bruce got that. If Cassandra could have that with someone, it was a good thing, so long as the person was worthy of her, and the relationship wasn't transitory, like so many young relationships were.
That didn't mean it hurt him any less that she had chosen someone to talk to over him.
But someone, probably the same person who understood him, someone who'd had a more normal childhood than he had, had once told him that that was the way of teenagers. They went to friends before parents with their problems, and you just had to trust that when it mattered, they'd know you were there. It went against every fiber of Bruce's being - he still kept an eye on Dick, though not as close as when he'd been a boy.
There just wasn't much point in punishing her when they both knew it was still a learning process. It didn't matter that she didn't need words with him either, or that he wouldn't have judged her - and could actually have given her more information - it was done, and like it or not, the best thing to do was to move forward.
"I'm glad he helped you," Bruce said simply, leaving it at that.