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“Gotham?” Jon said in disbelief. Had the Luthor rebellion gotten so bad that his parents thought he needed to be sent out of the country altogether to be safe? But if it was that bad, he should stay and help!
“A reciprocal exchange, where King Bruce would send Prince Tim here,” his dad explained. “On the surface, a friendly gesture, but underneath….”
Jon understood. A quiet way for Gotham to negotiate aid, without drawing Luthor’s attention.
His dad said gravely, “I’m trusting you, Jon, to make a good impression on the people of Gotham.”
Jon tried to be a cheerful guest, but he was homesick, and Gotham always overcast. People weren’t mean -- King Bruce always asked kindly if Jon’s suite was comfortable -- but no one except Prince Richard was really friendly, and he was busy.
Jon was often alone, until the day Prince Damian -- usually haughty and distant -- came to his quarters, saying, “You are familiar with farm animals.”
Jon bristled: was this some insult against the Kents? “Yes?”
It turned out there was a sick cow. Jon gave what advice he could, and watched Damian’s hands, gentle and brisk, and his firmly set chin. Jon abruptly remembered hearing that Damian had come to his father’s court late: to live among strangers, under skies grayer than he was used to. Jon decided then that he was going to like Damian; it wasn’t hard, when Damian smiled fleetingly when things took a turn for the better, before he remembered himself and said stiffly, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Jon said. “Tell me more about your dog?”
Damian hesitated, but he did, and when he finished and Jon said, “I can’t wait to meet him! I’m glad we’re friends now,” Damian scoffed but he didn’t argue, so that was that – they were friends.