No question that it could have been done at any time. But truth be told, Dick was more comfortable at night. Another thing he could blame on Batman, but right now he was more focused on Superman infront of him who had yet to really embrace the true meaning of what they did. It wasn't about words like destiny, or the greater good. When it came down to it those were only pretty words that Dick couldn't stand. They belonged in Saturday cartoon shows, and movies. Adjusting his black gloves so they fit better, he mentally double checked his equipment list. It wouldn't be very smart to show Clark a thing or two only to become street pizza later. No way was that a good role model. He was a professional, it was clear just by the way he conducted himself. He'd been at the crime fighting gig since he was a teenager when his parents were murdered. Almost a decade compared to Tim, or Stephanie, or many of the other young new generation heroes just learning to take their mantles.
He was just barely twenty five and had a lifetime in the costume. He knew he probably shouldn't be asking questions, but at the same time it was for Clark's benefit. He was thinking of him. His heart was in the right place. He knew Clark had gotten a dose of the truth serum, somehow he'd been lucky enough to have a pass. He didn't question it. For the time being, Dick took off his comm link that he always wore. It would be better to talk to Clark without Babs potentially in his ear. It clicked off-he knew he'd be yelled at later, but what else was new? He tucked the comm link in his glove.
"Me? " Nobody had ever asked him what he saw when he looked into the sea of people. "I see people who need hope." For now he left his answer simple as he leaned against his knee and the rooftop and raised an eyebrow looking back at Clark. "What do you think about flying, Clark?"