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[i]Titan Tower, San Francisco[/i]
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Roy caught the juice box out of the air at the last second, sighing as he looked at the cartoonish designs on the box. [i]Who even liked the Flash? Whoopie, he can run really fast. Some people couldn't just get struck by lightning and get lame superpowers. Some people had to train for years to use an archaic weapon and deliver pop-culture riddled one-liners.[/i] 

And then the bomb dropped. He turned his gaze towards the blonde who was trying to relax. He knew the sorrow of losing family, and his way of coping wasn't exactly something he could recommend. Besides, Roy was pretty sure alcohol or drugs would help a Kryptonian much. So Roy stared up at the ceiling as he loudly slurped up his juice for a couple seconds as the preppie went to go get himself some of the good shit. Roy had to break the tension.

"[color=ed1c24]So is a cultural thing where you're from to have really lame superhero names, or was it just your family?[/color]"

Arsenal mentally face-palmed as soon as the words left his lips. [i]Damn it Roy, just shut up for once.[/i] He silently tossed the now-empty juice box with precise aim towards a nearby trash-bin and reached towards his arrows and tools, his fingers immediately going to work. Roy laid on the couch sharpening an arrow in silence, trying to figure out how to dig himself out of this one. "[color=ed1c24]Sorry, I tried lightening the mood, but... well, yeah.[/color]" He trailed off as he absent-mindedly sharpened the arrow. [i]Off to a great start, Harper. Way to piss off the family of a dead god.[/i]