As Wendy sat in silence for a moment, Steph grimaced, leaning over to pat her hand gently.

“That one was a little heavy. I’m sorry. You good?”

Wendy reflexively laughed, covering her face with her hands.

“I should be asking you that. What the hell, Steph. Tell me there was something else that happened in your childhood that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

Snorting a laugh, tapping at the wires experimentally with a fingertip she pulled a face.

“I told you trauma dumping would happen. You were warned! I warned you! I dunno, Gimme a minute to think.”

Raising her brows, about to question why that was something she had to think about, Wendy realized why. Steph just had herself when dealing with Cluemaster and all the criminal bad dad sh*t. She had Marvin. She had the Titans. Wendy had a support network.
Steph, she was realizing… had Steph.
While the blonde started hunting around for the insulation paste, she let out a long slow sigh.

“I mean. How childhood are we talking? Because I don’t have a lot going on there… absent dad, mom sick. I’m trying to think of something that isn’t like. Crappy for you.”

Offering a wry smile, Steph then aha’ed, finding the paste, and returning to her space. With a head shake, Wendy closed her eyes.

“No, I know what I asked for… Just spit it out. Let’s get this over with.”

Snorting a laugh, Steph just shook her head.

“It’s not that bad this time, honest.”

Eying her wearily, Wendy simply murmured the affirmative and waited, while Steph neared completion on the repairs, putting the screws back in place.

“When dad was mad at me, he would lock me in a closet. Usually when I had interrupted him watching his stupid tapes or something.”

With the immediate reaction being ’oh, is that all’ after knowing all the other things Arthur Brown has been known to do, Wendy remembered who she was talking to.

“Wait. So how often were you in the closet?”

Shrugging her shoulders and mumbling something that sounded something along the lines of ‘lost count’, Wendy decided she was now firmy a lifelong member of the ‘Cluemaster must be stopped’ club.
With a triumphant ‘aha’ from the other side of the bench, Steph raised the repaired gauntlet up over her head.

“We did it, Prox! Team Batgirl for the win! Thank you. And I’m really sorry… I’ll bring the donuts for the next week, ok?”

Wendy felt like she should be the one bringing the donuts however. Next week, and forever.
It must have shown on her face, as Step reached over to snag the protective glasses from her.

“Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t start. I don’t need sympathy, or pity, or whatever. I’m fine. I’m like, the most fine of all of us.”

Giving a skeptical look, Wendy shook her head.

“That math ain’t mathing for me. But… If you say you’re fine I’ll believe you. You know you don’t have to be fine though, right?”

Just waving the gauntlet at her over her shoulder as she turned to leave, Steph laughed lightly.

“You still like bear claws, right?”