"Well, it starts with wearing this all the time," he said as his mask solidified on his face for just long enough to make the point. Then it sunk back in, leaving his wry expression for Scott to see.

"I tend to haunt around the place at odd hours because of my work and my sleep schedule. And of course, the moaning and shouting and screaming that happens when I do finally get to sleep, well... add it together and I'm not exactly the happy go lucky mentor that Jesse and Rick are."

He took a moment to finish off his coffee and took another chicken finger.

"Some of them are all right with me. Courtney's got brass balls to go along with that staff of hers. Stargirl. Takes after Jack that way." And he missed Jack sorely. Jack had been one of the few who'd appreciated not just Wes but his aunt Dian, both her brilliance and her contributions to their work. And Jack had understood the mixed bag that was being a second generation hero. The weight of it and the pain of it and the pride of it. The struggle. Michael had some of that as well, but he'd chosen it. It wasn't quite the same. And he was almost as serious as Sand himself was. Jack's irreverence was probably one of the main reasons he hadn't become so dour to start with.

"And Maxine's not really afraid of anything but someone telling her to go away. But a man can only listen to the Wicked soundtrack so many times."

He took a few bites of chicken finger before continuing.

"Kara thinks it's also the fact that I only appear when something dire is going on. I guess she's not wrong but... it is what it is."