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Alan doesn't usually seek out Batman himself.
He isn't sure why, not after so long. At first it was the usual wariness that surrounds new mystery men - Batman's tactics had always been aggressive, his image horrific in those first few years before Robin became part of his mission. But it had taken only a few meetings before any wariness had disappeared. His hesitation after that had been... habit, maybe. Habitual self-sufficiency after the first age of heroes imploded back in '51, habitual self-isolation for a multitude of reasons.
The JSA as a whole still has that streak of hyper-independence. Not always to their credit, to be frank, but they get by. Bruce, on the other hand, has always been more willing to reach out when others' talents are necessary to the mission than he'd like to let on.
Even if this is... unusual, Alan doesn't have to put in much effort to track Batman down. It is Gotham, after all. The man is everywhere. All he has to do is allow the Starheart's fire to glow, find an appropriate roof, and wait. It doesn't take long.
"You want to see me, Lantern?" Batman says. He's putting on the whole creature of the night, growly mystery man angle. Alan can't help but snort, and Bruce relaxes slightly. Even he can see that this is more a social visit than anything else.
Of course, now that Bruce is actually here, Alan doesn't quite know where to begin.
"You stuck around at Ted's funeral after the other League members left," Alan says. "You were skulking around in the shadows, but you were there." Bruce turns away and posts himself up at the ledge. He's keeping an eye out for trouble, of course, but he's also hiding his face. Typical.
"He was a good teacher," Bruce says. "It would be wrong not to stick around, at least for a bit." He turns slightly, half facing Alan. "Heard you dealt with the Injustice Society. Any word on Kobra?"
"We're working on it," Alan says. "I didn't come here to talk shop, you know." Bruce grunts. "I hope you know that we did appreciate the League offering to help. Even if we were a bit... aggressive when it came to rejecting that help."
"We came on strong," Bruce says. "Clark thought it would work if we presented a united front, but..." He shrugs. "I expect I owe Obsidian an apology, at the very least. Jay, too."
"You can save it, on both fronts," Alan says. "Obsidian was Johnny Sorrow in disguise at the time-"
"Jesus. I thought he was a bit more tightly wound than usual, but I put that down to the circumstances."
"Yeah, well, we all did. And you know that Jay won't hold a grudge now that he's had a chance to get a bit of distance. It's water under the bridge." Alan hesitates. "You said it was Clark who pushed for the League to try to take over from us. What about the rest of you?"
"You mean did we think it would actually work?" Bruce says. Alan can see the edge of a rueful smile on his face. "Diana and Michael hoped it would. I don't know how realistic they thought that hope was. I was... doubtful, but we had to at least offer. I know what it's like to keep pushing through grief when you're doing this job. It's never ended well, at least not for me."
"Some of us know that we can rely on our friends," Alan says. It's a bitchy thing to say. He doesn't take it back, and Bruce doesn't ask him to. "Slow night?"
"So far," Bruce says. "Someone is planning something - someone besides just Vandal Savage, I mean - but without more information I can only react to whatever they throw out. Police radio's been surprisingly quiet."
There's a rooftop bar just a block away. Alan can hear it from here. It feels foolish to press his luck, but the funeral had... there had been so much else going on. It hadn't felt like the conclusion it was supposed to be.
"Drink with me?" Alan says. Bruce actually turns to look at him with a half-amused sort of huff.
"Seriously?" he says.
"Come on," Alan says. He gestures over at the bar. "You know Ted would be dragging you over there if I was the one who'd just been put in the ground." It's hard to tell with the lenses, but Alan thinks Bruce is rolling his eyes.
"That's true enough," Bruce says, pushing himself up from his crouch on the ledge. "Let's go."
The way the whole rooftop falls silent the moment Batman swings and Green Lantern flies into a slightly more empty corner of the dance floor makes Alan smirk, catching Bruce's eye. The younger hero just rolls his eyes again.
"I'll get the first round," Bruce says.
"You're carrying your wallet in that utility belt?" Alan says. "Is it just cash, or do you have a bat-credit card?"
"Cash," Bruce says bluntly before swishing his way through the quickly parting crowd. Alan shakes his head fondly and goes to find a table. Conversations and dancing are slowly starting up again, the citizens of Gotham apparently deciding that if no one's getting apprehended they might as well have two mystery men in their bar.
Strange days. Not a single person on this rooftop has known a world where heroes and vigilantes don't exist - none except him. With Ted gone, the number of humans on this Earth who know has shrunk to just him, Jay, and Sandy - and he isn't sure that Sandy truly remembers what it was like before. Even the first Leaguers had grown up with the memory of the JSA and the Squadron.
Strange days indeed.
Bruce finds him easily, letting his intimidating costume do half the work when it comes to walking across the crowded bar without getting the plastic cups knocked around. He sits across from him, and Alan raises his cup in a toast.
"To Ted," he says, taking a drink. Bruce nods and follows his lead.
"To Ted," Bruce says. "I'd say 'may his memory be a blessing', but he'd probably try to fight me about that."
"Oh, God," Alan says. "Did he ever tell you that he claimed I inspired him to put on the costume?"
"Of course he didn't," Bruce says. "I'm not surprised, though. Half the fucking world was inspired to put on a costume by you."
"Don't overstate it."
"Second-hand, if nothing else."
"Oh, shut up."
"He was so shit at pretending that he didn't want to get back into it once it looked like the JSA was going to get back into the swing of things," Bruce says. "I swear to God, every time I bumped into him he would say that he wasn't going to go back to Wildcat. Even though I never brought it up in the first place."
"You were in contact with him that much?"
"He'd trained me for a bit," Bruce says with a shrug, "so I threw Dick, Jason, and Tim at him once they started training for Robin. After that he got busy and there were enough of us to rotate sparring partners, quite frankly. But he was always willing to lend a hand. Didn't matter who he was training."
"Oh, believe me, I know. He trained practically the entire JSA once we got back together. The kids would always blow him off until he laid them out without breaking a sweat."
"Which of course he did."
"Yeah." Alan takes a too-large gulp of his beer. Shit's not strong enough to give him more than the slightest buzz, not even with the rate he's drinking, but he needs the mirage of liquid courage. "I never thanked you. I know you pushed him to actually join rather than just hang around."
"He didn't need much encouragement," Bruce says. "Seriously, all it took was accidentally getting wrapped up in a case. Breaking a few heads on that did the rest."
"Still," Alan sighs, "I'm glad. If he hadn't- I keep thinking about Terry - y'know, the first Mr. Terrific."
"We never met, but I know of him."
"He only got back in the suit once or twice before he passed away. It's so easy to fall out of contact with people when you're in this life. Even Todd and Jenny- Sometimes I think I wouldn't ever see them if it wasn't for the Justice Society."
"You would," Bruce says, "you'd just have to make more of an effort, that's all. You wouldn't have the excuse of the mission."
"Anyways, I'm glad Ted got back into it, that's all. Even if it ended the - the way it ended, even if he deserved more time than he got, I'm glad. It's selfish, I know."
"He wouldn't have wanted it to end any other way," Bruce says. "Honestly, I don't think he would have let it. He was too much of a stubborn ass to die out of costume." Alan lets out a half-shocked bark of laughter. It's true. This is one of the reasons he's so fond of Bruce, even if they don't see each other often enough - Bruce has a way of cutting through shit in a way that's blunt and cutting and funny and true.
"God," Alan says, "he'd ring my bell himself if he saw me moping like this."
"I'd fight him for you if he did," Bruce says. He raises his cup again, less solemn than before. "To Wildcat."
"To Wildcat," Alan agrees. They drink.