The last meaningful interaction we had was him breaking my arm.

[ he's not going to count exchanging petty insults after getting out of prison. ]

There's a lot of history there. We disagree on a fundamental level about most things, and he... [ he grabs a fistful of vines, letting them catch fire in his hold as he looks away from dick. the confession sticks in his throat ] blames me, for a lot. Nothing was the same after Metropolis was destroyed. He didn't want to admit it.