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Sometimes, Roy needs to remind himself that he's not dreaming. Good things just don't happen to him, yet here Lian is, whole and healthy and in his life again. There's no better thing that could ever happen than that. When he needs to prove to himself that sometimes dreams come true, he reaches over and pokes his daughter.
From behind her menu, Lian raises a bemused eyebrow at him. She's gotten used to his bullshit at this point. "Yes, Dad, I'm really here. And I'm ready to order."
"Right."
Bacon-and-caramelized onions gourmet cheeseburger with a side of fries for Roy because being a vigilante and a parent has him burning double the calories, chicken strips with a side of the seasonal vegetable for Lian because she's growing up and making mature decisions.
Roy's so proud of her.
Lian fills their wait time by telling him all about her training session with Uncle Connor over the weekend. Her eyes light up when she tells him all about this cool new armbar technique she learned, and she almost knocks over her Shirley Temple trying to demonstrate a footwork drill with her fingers.
"You're learning that one a lot earlier than I did," Roy remarks, then leans back to give the waiter space to set down their plates. "That's awesome!"
His daughter's grin could power the sun.
Roy tucks into his burger with gusto, sparing an incredulous thought at how his generation's mentors seemed allergic to giving out praise. One small act creates such big joys. He'd think it a no-brainer, and yet.
There's a lull in conversation brought on by their meals, which Lian eventually breaks. "This shit's delicious!"
"Language," Roy says automatically, but the snort that escapes him undercuts the reprimand. He looks to see what specific shit she's talking about.
Lian impales a spear of asparagus, the apparent seasonal vegetable, and waves it around on her fork. "Maybe you can make it sometime!"
"Maybe I can," Roy agrees, trading some fries for a spear. It's roasted with garlic and lemon in a way that he has yet to master. He's had more reason to practice cooking since Lian came back, because bachelor microwave cuisine doesn't cut it for a growing teenager's nutritional needs. Roy's not going to fumble this second, miraculous chance of doing right by his daughter.
"This is the best asparagus I've ever had," Lian tells him, dragging him out of his thoughts. "Not that I've had much."
Not for Roy's lack of trying.
"You know, you refused to eat it when you were little." Roy steals another spear off Lian's plate. That phrasing never sits right with him because damn it, Lian will always be little to him. His little girl. But they both know what he means: Before.
Lian tries for the classic teenage girl indifference whenever Roy shares stories about the before times, but the telltale spark of interest in her eye always gives her away. "Did I?"
"Dinah brought it over once, back in New York. From some farmer's market somewhere." Roy remembers the tote bag of produce that awaited him one morning on his kitchen counter, followed by the daunting prospect of preparing vegetable matter that didn't come from a can or freezer bag. "I had no idea how to cook it, so I just boiled it, I think. Tried to get you to eat this new vegetable, but you wouldn't take a single bite. You shouted 'No pergus!' at me until I gave up."
Lian snorts. "Close enough."
"By then I'd gotten you to eat a couple vegetables. Carrots and broccoli were okay, but peas were your favorite. And not just to eat. You graduated from throwing them when you figured out how to launch them with your spoon." Roy presses a hand to his heart with pride. "An archer from the very start."
"Oh yeah?" A devious grin breaks across Lian's face. In one swift move, she grabs her balled-up straw wrapper and the spoon she hadn't been using, then sends the paper projectile right into Roy's hair.
"Hey!"
"Just practicing an old skill!"
Roy plucks the wrapper from where it caught and flicks it right back at his daughter, doinking her right on the nose. Bullseye, as always. "Turnabout is fair play!"
Lian sticks her tongue out at him, then puts the spoon back down. "Did I launch the asparagus?"
"That was too big to fit in your spoon-apult, thankfully. But you threw such a fit that I started to wonder if there really was something wrong with 'pergus' that I just wasn't aware of!"
"Maybe you just cooked it wrong," Lian teases. "Because this stuff is great."
Roy shrugs good-naturedly. "Probably. I'm glad someone could make you like it. I was nervous you'd be a picky eater forever."
Lian glances away at that, her smile turning into a wince. She spears a chicken strip while weighing her words. "I didn't have much of a choice on the streets."
Oh, fuck. The grins slides right off Roy's face. The greatest failure among his many over the years had momentarily slipped his mind. From the moment Roy first laid eyes on his daughter, he swore he'd be there for her every step of the way. Lian would never know the pain of abandonment that Roy himself will never fully shake. The explosion, Waller, Alleytown… Roy's oath to his daughter became just another broken promise.
His grief must be showing on his face, because Lian reaches across the table and pokes him. Different spiral, same solution.
"Dad. It's not your fault."
Lian believes that wholeheartedly. They've had this talk before.
"It's…" He trails off, then rubs the back of his neck. "You're right. Sorry."
Then Roy's whole and here and perfect daughter cleaves through the lingering tension by handing him the dessert menu.
"Because I'm not a picky eater anymore," she begins slyly, "I was looking at the rhubarb pie…"
Roy grins. "How about we get two? A la mode, of course."