For someone that saw everything, Lilith had been quite shocked to die. Or at least, that's how Roy had it sussed. He'd tried not to think about it all that much, but the image was cemented in his mind. That pained expression, last glimmer of recognition before that memorable snap had destroyed his world. He wondered if she'd known it was going to happen, and if that was why she'd gone to try and calm the renegade opponent. Then again, maybe she hadn't. Maybe it had all been as much an unwanted event for her as it had been for them.
Hell, who was he kidding? Nobody wanted to die. Least of all Lilith Clay. She'd suffered, and she'd been hurt, sure, they all had; but nobody could walk so freely into their own demise. Nobody. I suppose in part, that was why he came. The statue in the memorial hall wasn't what she would have wanted, and as such, he made a point of never visiting it. Instead he went to the small cemetery in which she was buried, and paid his respects the good ol' fashioned way.
"Y'know, I think Dinah's honestly going to kill me if I dump Lian on her one more time to visit you." Now there was the crimson archer everyone knew and loved. Using wit to break the uncomfortable silence that often came with talking to the dead. Seating himself in a cross legged position before the marble tombstone, the red haired hero grinned. "It's not the same without you. The Titans, Outsiders, it's just empty y'know? There's nobody left to help me cheat at poker, or to shout at Dick for leaving the bathroom all damp after his shower. And there's nobody to talk to about the stuff that really matters."
He had to pause; to think of the right words instead of turning this into a joke. He was already talking to a slab of rock, a body buried only a few feet below. That didn't exactly send the social flare burning, but these things had to be said. "When Donna came back I asked if you could be reanimated too; but they said they couldn't do it. So I hope Lil' that wherever you are, you're happy. Chasing Azrael around and what not; and rocking the red hair the way us charming people do. Just, remember that we miss you alright? And that whenever and wherever we meet again, I'll expect a hug and copious amounts of hard liquor."
Next week, he'd remember what to say to her. But for now, he just set the solitary white rose down on the ground before her grave, and sat in silence. Actions spoke more than words, and the fact that he made a point of visiting her every week; to poke fun and to clue her in on the heroic world; that was as endearing as it got.