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Hey, this is a PSA for any and all aboard the good ship Stacy: today is your lucky day, because none other than West Rosen is gracing you all with his presence in the icky fleshy canteen. How about that: a great dinner and great company.

The dinner is goop on goop with a side of tray, and the company is picking at it with the expression on his face of someone being asked to eat live maggots.

Come distract him from the menu? Please?

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"Hey, freak can be a compliment," he grins.

West would rather be a freak than one of those boring normal people! Or something. Really, it's like he tried to take after Claire's old not!boyfriend Zach without even realising it.

"I chose to think of it as a term of endreament," Tim replied, laughing. "As it's usually my closest friends that call me that."

"Good call." Okay, Tim is well on the way to earning the patented West Rosen Seal of Approval, despite the whole 'lol I'm Robin' thing.

"I'd be more worried if someone was accusing me of being boring, honestly."

"Perish the thought," Tim replied dryly. This West guy was... actually pretty funny. "So--where are you from...? And when, I guess. Itr's looking like the people here are from all kinds of different worlds and times."

"...I'd worked out the worlds part," says West, in the spirit of sharing information. The clues were subtle, but they were there.

"Costa Verde. California." Though he was originally from St Louis, woo. "And... mid-March? Uh, 2007. Well, that's not something I ever thought I'd have to introduce myself with."

He raises an eyebrow at Tim, and gives him fair warning: "If you say you're from Gotham, I will laugh."

"What if I say I'm from Bristol, which is actually one of the outer neighborhoods of Gotham? Does that help?" He gave West a slightly bemused smile. He wasn't really sure why his point of origin was so funny.

...

"Sure, why not."

West pulls a bit of a face at Tim; it's one that looks as though it should probably be accompanied by a waggling finger and 'cuckoo! cuckoo!' sound, but with marvellous restraint West does not add these things.

"...I think I've finally given up on the five-star meal," he adds, dropping the uneaten chunk of whatever back onto the tray. "Appetizing as it is."

"What, you don't like your appetizer of gloop, followed by an entree of glop, with a side order of gruel, and mush for dessert?" says another young man, passing by with his tray of glop. He's just passing through. He's going to go eat with his cousin, 'cause he doesn't like how the green bean has been hanging around her so much lately...

Robin will get plenty of Kon time later.

The S-shield on the back of the jacket was very visible when he went up to get his food, and West has likely seen him around enough to see it, so that's two people dressed like superheroes, West.

"See, but we're all lucky. Typically when you get yanked to an alien spaceship, you get some kinda whacky 'to serve man' situation or the food tries to eat you."

Spoken like someone who's had to play baseball with aliens for the fate of the world. In fact, both boys are likely uncannily relaxed about all this.

Tim turned to grin at him. "Hey, Kon." He was pretty aware at this point that West thought he was more than a little nuts. The whole "isn't Robin a comic book character?" thing had come up once before--during Escape from Bug Pit. "This is West," he continued. "He's new here."

"You're lucky," Kon says to West. "You missed the acid-spewing space bugs. "

He holds out his free hand, holding his tray with the other.

"I'm Kon. Or Superboy. Whichever humps your camel." Since for a while, the latter had been his only name.

He'd leave off the "Conner" one for now, because the Kent secret ID is a very sacred and 'hide it at all cost' kinda thing. It's bad enough some of these people might just know it anyway, due to that weird dimension-crossey tv show, comic book thingy.

West gives the hand a loooong look before he shakes it, still looking uncertain. Because all right, it's not so long ago that he found out how widespread superpowers are and that there really are conspiracies against them, and all right, he has been abducted by aliens, and all right, alternate realities did come up when he was talking to Allen, and all right, all of this does kind of set a new standard for strange.

"Okay, does the weirdness ever kind of reach a plateau," he asks a little weakly, "or does it just keep growing exponentially?"

...That, uh, that doesn't mean he believes you guys! But he's definitely less and less sure that he disbelieves you, when the only argument against is that it's impossible.

"What weirdness?" Kon grins, after withdrawing his hand, sitting cross-legged in the air and taking a few bites from his tray. "For us, this is kinda normal. Which sort of answers your question, doesn't it--eventually it gets so weird, weird turns into normal."

He pulls at face at the utter blandness of his food (Bland with a hint of bland) as he floats there, as if it's perfectly normal to sit in the air when there's a perfectly good bench there. But to him, gravity is generally just a suggestion.

"Baseball for the fate of the Earth?" Tim asked smirking at Kon. Weird, after all, was only a matter of perspective, and they had done all kinds of weird. He glanced at West and shrugged. "He's right, though. After a while... not much surprises you. Even waking up on a spaceship naked and covered in goo."

Though--he hadn't really loved the goo part. He glanced over at Kon, who was sitting on the air. "Show off," he grumbled fondly.

"Me? A show off? Me? Never."

...Excuse us, but Kon appears to be flying. It isn't quite proof that he (and by extension, Robin) is who he claims, but it's definitely in the same postcode.

You can tell that West is mildly surprised by this -- a phrase akin to saying that the Atlantic Ocean is sort of wet and a little in the way -- by the fact that he hasn't started showing off his own flying ability in response. Apparently being mentally knocked for six is a good deterrent from getting into competitions that you can't even hope to begin winning.

"...I think I'm going to give up now and just scribble the word 'impossible' out of any available dictionaries," he says, a trifle weakly and half to himself.

"Whut?" Kon says around a full mouth. He looks down at his suit. "Did I dribble on my suit or something?"

He's confused as to why West looks so taken aback. What, has he not seen somebody flying before? The thought of worlds without superheroes hasn't even occurred to him.

"Go with dictionary edit," Tim says, laughing a little. "There... really isn't any such thing as impossible that I'm aware of." He grins at Kon. "I think you're breaking his brain, man."

"I'm just floating. A guy can't float? It's not like I heatvisioned his slop."

"Speaking of," Tim said, grimacing at the mush in front of him. "Would you mind?"

"...Warm mush is better than cold mush, yeah."

He squints at Tim's tray and yes, little red beams of light shoot from his eyes, heating up the mush with an unnappetizing plorp.

Then he does his own, and tries eating it.

"You can almost pretend it's oatmeal this way."

He looks to West. "Want me to do yours?"

West eventually remembers to close his mouth.

Stick around for next week's exciting installment, when he re-learns how to form syllables into words!

"Sure!"

There West, your food has now been warmed up via heatvision by a clone of Superman.

"There you go."

"I'm imagining cream of wheat," Tim admitted, closing his eyes as he took a bite. He shuddered a little. "Thanks, Kon."

West avoids swallowing his tongue, but only by a very narrow margin of good luck.

This allows him to devote his full attention to HOLY CRAP, WHAT THE HELL and a large healthy dollop of OH MY FREAKING GOD.

"How the--"

FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN RESIDENCE.

"No way!"

MAKE THAT TWO (SORRY ROBIN) (OMFG ROBIN).

"What? Do you have some kinda nervous condition or something?" Kon asks, because he's still confused. "Like with spastic fits?"