Dick sat in the kitchen of Wayne Manor staring into his coffee mug as if it were a crystal ball that might offer some answers. Unexpectedly in Gotham City, he had paid a surprise visit to the Manor only to discover Alfred absent and Catwoman making breakfast.

"College Boy!" A pleased voice boomed as Bruce entered the kitchen, in bathrobe and slippers, Dick noted, and holding a juice glass from the tray Catwoman had left with. He gave his son a hug. "Decided to pay us a visit, I see."

"Yeah, I came into town . . . on some business" he hedged "and when I saw how late it was I figured I'd kick back here for a bit before driving back." Dick looked around theatrically, confirming they were alone. "Bruce, uh, what's going on?"

A raised eyebrow was the only response.

"That girl."

"She'll be down in a minute, she's taking a shower."

"That was Catwoman."

Bruce rose from the table and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"So what's going on here?"

"Dick, It's seven in the morning, I'm in my bathrobe. You've discovered a conspicuously beautiful woman in my kitchen making breakfast, who I've just told you is now taking a shower. At some point in your training I'm sure we discussed the concept of deductive reasoning."
Bruce sipped his coffee.

Dick imagined this is what Bob Cratchit must have felt like the day Scrooge wished him a Merry Christmas and gave him a raise.

Bruce - had made a joke?

Aw hell, Dick thought with some envy, I guess a night with Catwoman would brighten anybody's outlook. Aloud he said:

"Okay, yes, bathrobe, breakfast, wearing your sweater, I get it . . . I didn't mean, well I kind of meant, - Look, I guess what I'm asking is: how did this come about? was she in costume? were you? how much does she know ?"

Bruce considered this for a minute.
"Well, I don't know that the first three questions are any of your business, but as for the last one . . ."

The door swung open and the woman who had introduced herself as 'Lena said: "I'm gonna take off so you two can visit."

"You don't have to rush off," said Bruce with an expression an objective observer would have called a smile.

"Yeah, I better."

"Well, I'll call you."

Dick wondered if some gypsy curse mightn't be responsible for his presence in this room, at this moment, witnessing this bizarre conversation . . .

"You don't have my number." Selina teased.

…instead of, say, Alfred who would've found a way to excuse himself by now.

"I'll bet I can find it." Said Bruce in a voice so playful Dick wondered if it mightn't be one of the cosmic signs of Armageddon.

As he started to walk her to the door, Bruce kissed Selina's cheek and placed a hand on . . .

No, Dick decided, Not Alfred, Not Emily Post, Not Noel Coward - there was no standard-bearer of etiquette, propriety, or sophistication that would know what to do in his place, so he just ignored the situation and buttered a piece of toast.