Bruce enters the conference room on the Watchtower. He is wearing a baby carrier with a baby inside it.
"Why is there a baby," whispers Flash to Superman.
Clark shrugs. "It's probably one of the Robins."
"What?" says Barry tightly. "No, none of them are that age!"
"Jesus Bar, it's like you've never heard of de-aging beams."
"I'm not feeling good about the fact that you're taking this so lightly." Barry scratches at his five o' clock shadow. "If it is a Robin, it's very weird. But it's more weird if it's not."
"Maybe it's a Batgirl," suggests Diana, leaning in. "Cass or...or Steph. The purple one."
"That fits the purple diaper," says Barry reflectively.
"Barry stop hyperfixating on this," Clark says. "Let it go."
The baby is crying a little, sucking on its thumb. Batman gives it a chew toy as he continues working, and then produces a bottle out from under his cape, and holding the baby's head at a careful angle, begins to feed it.
"Batman..." Flash says, miserably curious. "Why do you have a baby?" He points at it, as if to make clear what baby he is talking about.
Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. "Newly orphaned. Mother threw her from the spire of a church tower in Scarecrow-fear-toxin-induced hallucinations. Then she threw herself. I could only save one."
Barry looks like the dictionary illustration for the word 'flabbergasted'.
"Oh," is all he says. "Oh. Okay."
"I've found her a good home. She'll leave in a few hours." Bruce looks down, and then mutters to himself, "I just wanted to hold her".
Superman pretends he doesn't have super-hearing.