( Not many people have ever expressed their condolences. She doesn't talk about her parents or her family or any of what followed with Dinah or Barbara; it seems like it would start too many fights when both their fathers served in the Gotham City Police Department and they had been her natural enemy since birth. The police were dangerous, they were enemies, they'd hurt her family and her kin. If you spoke to the police, you were a snitch, you were less than human. The police had been so jubilant when her family were wiped out; she didn't know how to reconcile that with the images of beloved family that Dinah and Barbara honoured above all else.
So she didn't talk about her family, about watching her mother bleed out, about how her brother had spoken about running away to Los Angeles to join a baseball team. She didn't talk about how she'd told her father she'd prayed he were dead not minutes before he was shot, or that he'd said she'd be better suited to running the mob than her brother.
She didn't receive apologies or condolences that were sincere and meant without barbs or double edges, or the desire to hold a place with the last of the once-great Bertinellis. The only other to apologise had been a stranger, Max Briest, and now a boy who wasn't alive when her family were taken from her.
For a moment she stares at him, unsure what to say, before she shakes her head and simply piles more lasagne - never mind that he's barely started that piece- onto his plate. ) My mother wouldn't have thought this was appropriate conversation to throw at a guest. Don't worry about it, Jaime.
( She'd also say that Helena Rosa should have asked him to say grace, but she can't handle that right now. )
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So she didn't talk about her family, about watching her mother bleed out, about how her brother had spoken about running away to Los Angeles to join a baseball team. She didn't talk about how she'd told her father she'd prayed he were dead not minutes before he was shot, or that he'd said she'd be better suited to running the mob than her brother.
She didn't receive apologies or condolences that were sincere and meant without barbs or double edges, or the desire to hold a place with the last of the once-great Bertinellis. The only other to apologise had been a stranger, Max Briest, and now a boy who wasn't alive when her family were taken from her.
For a moment she stares at him, unsure what to say, before she shakes her head and simply piles more lasagne - never mind that he's barely started that piece- onto his plate. ) My mother wouldn't have thought this was appropriate conversation to throw at a guest. Don't worry about it, Jaime.
( She'd also say that Helena Rosa should have asked him to say grace, but she can't handle that right now. )