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We'll have three old fashions then
Nov. 22nd, 2017 08:10 pmThe Spratley Inn, at the very least, didn't open its doors right away after the Halloween Purge and the death of its owner and the Amber Lily Lounge's manager. There was a closed door memorial service, shortly after the bodies were recovered and the place had been scrubbed of the visible traces of blood. The performances for Once and Future had been halted early in light of how gauche it seemed to continue to cast a slain King Arthur off for an audience in the same pool Daniel Muldoon-Spratley's body was dumped. It was a shame but just as well with only three more weeks of performances originally planned. The theatrical manager had announced on social media that there were plans to continue with the next production's after a public memorial party held on the day of the originally planned "Friendsgiving Feast" planned at the lounge for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.
Tim, for the bulk of the month, takes to burying himself in his work. When he isn't at class or at the workshop, he's researching cases and tracking follow-ups from the nightmare of Halloween. When he isn't doing that, he's patrolling and training Ace. Tim isn't seeing or calling friends, barely going out, and sleeping only two hours on good nights. It worries Diana, who continued to train with him; has Aggie flooding his phone with messages to check in on him when they don't patrol together. Tim always evades questions, smiling woodenly at their concerns and caking on concealer to mask the signs of his fatigue.
Please at least come out without the cape this week. It's Thanksgiving.
He sighs as he pulls from that last message as he checks his messages and responds with, "I will, I promise."
And, at least tonight, it isn't a completely empty promise. Tim was already dressed to the nines and about to step out.
Three hours later, Tim's head is down and throbbing on the bar of the Amber Lily Lounge. So much for being responsible or celebratory.
The atmosphere of the memorial party is so horrible and disrespectful to his sensibilities, he just knocked back whiskeys while listening to the band perform bizarre blendings of big band and heavy rock from the stage. A large portrait of Daniel Muldoon-Spratley and his assistant flank the front of the stage, surrounded by flowers, ignored and often bumped into by people on the dance floor.
"Kid, you can't stay here like this. People are complaining and it'll be a liability if you get sick," one of the bouncers— the one he talked to on Halloween, Tim barely realises— tells him loudly over the music, nudging him. "Come on, you can't drive. Gimme your phone."
Without lifting his head, Tim pulls his phone from his waistcoat and thrusts it at the larger man.
"Alright, I'm taking you out for air, buddy. You dial who you trust to pick you up."
He blindly taps a quick dial contact while the bouncer pulls him up and takes him outside. The bouncer sits him down on the steps and takes the phone. Tim barely registers what's being said, can feel his stomach starting to roll and internally curses himself for even coming out. He should have at least tried to just celebrate with friends, like the day implied.
"Hey, kid, you're lucky you got friends who wanna come and look out for you, but next time? Bring 'em with you to babysit your ass or stay at home if you can't handle your Jack, 'kay? I'm going back in. Don't drive, just wait for your friend."
The bouncer heads back in after dumping Tim's phone back into his lap, and he groans when he sees who was called.
Tim does not want to add Billy to the list of friends giving him long, concerned looks.
Tim, for the bulk of the month, takes to burying himself in his work. When he isn't at class or at the workshop, he's researching cases and tracking follow-ups from the nightmare of Halloween. When he isn't doing that, he's patrolling and training Ace. Tim isn't seeing or calling friends, barely going out, and sleeping only two hours on good nights. It worries Diana, who continued to train with him; has Aggie flooding his phone with messages to check in on him when they don't patrol together. Tim always evades questions, smiling woodenly at their concerns and caking on concealer to mask the signs of his fatigue.
Please at least come out without the cape this week. It's Thanksgiving.
He sighs as he pulls from that last message as he checks his messages and responds with, "I will, I promise."
And, at least tonight, it isn't a completely empty promise. Tim was already dressed to the nines and about to step out.
Three hours later, Tim's head is down and throbbing on the bar of the Amber Lily Lounge. So much for being responsible or celebratory.
The atmosphere of the memorial party is so horrible and disrespectful to his sensibilities, he just knocked back whiskeys while listening to the band perform bizarre blendings of big band and heavy rock from the stage. A large portrait of Daniel Muldoon-Spratley and his assistant flank the front of the stage, surrounded by flowers, ignored and often bumped into by people on the dance floor.
"Kid, you can't stay here like this. People are complaining and it'll be a liability if you get sick," one of the bouncers— the one he talked to on Halloween, Tim barely realises— tells him loudly over the music, nudging him. "Come on, you can't drive. Gimme your phone."
Without lifting his head, Tim pulls his phone from his waistcoat and thrusts it at the larger man.
"Alright, I'm taking you out for air, buddy. You dial who you trust to pick you up."
He blindly taps a quick dial contact while the bouncer pulls him up and takes him outside. The bouncer sits him down on the steps and takes the phone. Tim barely registers what's being said, can feel his stomach starting to roll and internally curses himself for even coming out. He should have at least tried to just celebrate with friends, like the day implied.
"Hey, kid, you're lucky you got friends who wanna come and look out for you, but next time? Bring 'em with you to babysit your ass or stay at home if you can't handle your Jack, 'kay? I'm going back in. Don't drive, just wait for your friend."
The bouncer heads back in after dumping Tim's phone back into his lap, and he groans when he sees who was called.
Tim does not want to add Billy to the list of friends giving him long, concerned looks.
The Girl in the Mirror
Sep. 7th, 2017 08:39 amTim comes in late and soaking wet that night. The weather dipped down faster than he could adjust to, and the rain just made the chill come to him a little too quickly without the extra shirt under his costume to help adjust. He haphazardly tosses his suit aside as he strips it off, making sure it doesn't soak too much of his other clothes he's tossed onto the floor in his laziness and falls face into bed with just enough energy left to pull up his comforter and switch off his light.
The next morning, he wakes up similarly late, or at least later than he should for his earlier classes in the day. It's Ace's whining in his ear followed by licking that gets him to budge.
"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm feeding you."
He notices his voice cracks a little and his head feels weird and groggy as he gets up. His balance is slightly off, too. As if his center of gravity shifted. He wonders if he got a cold for a moment before he turns and catches himself in the full length mirror he keeps near his desk.
He— she?— has breasts. Full, girlish breasts and widened hips and holy shit, they're a girl now.
Tim spins to their night stand and frantically shoots off two texts to people they think could help them best.
The next morning, he wakes up similarly late, or at least later than he should for his earlier classes in the day. It's Ace's whining in his ear followed by licking that gets him to budge.
"Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm feeding you."
He notices his voice cracks a little and his head feels weird and groggy as he gets up. His balance is slightly off, too. As if his center of gravity shifted. He wonders if he got a cold for a moment before he turns and catches himself in the full length mirror he keeps near his desk.
He— she?— has breasts. Full, girlish breasts and widened hips and holy shit, they're a girl now.
Tim spins to their night stand and frantically shoots off two texts to people they think could help them best.
(no subject)
Aug. 12th, 2017 09:33 pmIt was a nice and casual day. Still another week before orientation for his classes, and the plans for the completion and release of his smartwatch's development were almost done. He was debating what to do with his day before readying for patrol, just petting a sleepy Ace and lounging on his couch and reading news on his tablet when he gets the linked alert to a text mid-article.
It was from Billy. Just two words that had him confused for a moment before realization hit Tim like a wave and he felt his stomach drop. He didn't think this would happen again. At least, he hoped it wouldn't. But it has, and he needs to be there for his best friend.
She's gone.
Tim jumps off the couch, making Ace whine at being displaced so suddenly. He spares the dog an apologetic pat before he throws on a pair of jeans and grabs his bag, keys, and helmet.
"Sorry boy, but a friend needs me. You be good while I'm out, okay? I might be back late."
The pit-lab whines again, but he's been well trained. Tim knows he'll be okay. Worst case, he'll message Aggie to stop by and check on Ace if he's out until patrol.
He runs down the stairs of the building and check's Billy's location through their watches, speeding off to him when he gets it.
It was from Billy. Just two words that had him confused for a moment before realization hit Tim like a wave and he felt his stomach drop. He didn't think this would happen again. At least, he hoped it wouldn't. But it has, and he needs to be there for his best friend.
She's gone.
Tim jumps off the couch, making Ace whine at being displaced so suddenly. He spares the dog an apologetic pat before he throws on a pair of jeans and grabs his bag, keys, and helmet.
"Sorry boy, but a friend needs me. You be good while I'm out, okay? I might be back late."
The pit-lab whines again, but he's been well trained. Tim knows he'll be okay. Worst case, he'll message Aggie to stop by and check on Ace if he's out until patrol.
He runs down the stairs of the building and check's Billy's location through their watches, speeding off to him when he gets it.
Belated Birthday Patrol and Movie Night
Jul. 23rd, 2017 10:48 pmTim can't quite say that it was exactly tradition to go on a light patrol and have movie night for his birthday. Even if it were, it was belated in any case, what with running around to set up his college courses late and work. But movie nights were certainly a tradition for the blended Wayne family, or at least the kids. The one night they'd all get together in a month and try to take it easy and he wouldn't deliberately get into a fight with Damian. It was harder when they scatter more, grew more, and was always difficult to get Bruce to join in, but he and Dick at least would try.
It's a tradition he misses, and he misses having family beside him on rooftops and in his ear. But now, he has a little bit of that again after a year and a half in Darrow. It was time to bring back tradition.
Back in his apartment, he has a decent stock of popcorn and a scheduled pizza order to be delivered just before midnight. All of the Karate Kid is set up for viewing enjoyment when he gets back home.
Right now, Red Robin sits on the roof of the building next to the Hideout with a box of donuts, enjoying the music pulsing from below while keeping an eye on a bank across the street, waiting for his guests or robbers to show up.
You know, whatever came first.
It's a tradition he misses, and he misses having family beside him on rooftops and in his ear. But now, he has a little bit of that again after a year and a half in Darrow. It was time to bring back tradition.
Back in his apartment, he has a decent stock of popcorn and a scheduled pizza order to be delivered just before midnight. All of the Karate Kid is set up for viewing enjoyment when he gets back home.
Right now, Red Robin sits on the roof of the building next to the Hideout with a box of donuts, enjoying the music pulsing from below while keeping an eye on a bank across the street, waiting for his guests or robbers to show up.
You know, whatever came first.
They clipped my wings
Jul. 30th, 2016 12:09 amAs much as he loves getting his bike in the City, Tim needs a proper safe house still to park it discretely for patrol. It was one thing to take it in emergencies, but patrol and investigation needed more discretion, and without a safe house with a garage to park it in, and especially without the auto drive installed just yet, he has to pass it up for swinging. It was fine, though. Gave him the proper opportunity to try out some of the new toys in his belt.
Like the rappelling harness he had set up a few weeks ago. Useful for scenes like this one where he needed to listening in close at a window when he lacked bugs to listen with or a proper ledge to perch on while staying out of view.
Something he's doing right now to spy in on a potential drug deal going on. So far, so good. And far better than sliding down his line and relying on his own grip like he used to. Leaves his hands happily free to record the conversation on the other side of the glass, using a minuscule microphone through the crack of the window.
"So that's it. We'll be getting the drop on the Seo shipment and—"
"Hey, did you hear that, Johnny?"
Damn. He doesn't know if Johnny did, but Tim certainly did. Felt it, too. There's something wrong with his harness. It's supposed to help with the distribution of his weight, and it failed just then. It makes the rail he's suspended by creak. Double damn. He hears a pop at the belt follow and catches the line before he slips. The bracket he forgot to reinforce. He can't reel up the way it was designed to now. Triple damn.
"Someone's snoopin'! Check the windows!"
Now would be a great moment for stronger language.
Red Robin starts to scramble up, but he doesn't make the right traction and it makes more of a ruckus as the window flies open.
"Hey!"
Shit shit shit shit.
They open fire and while they seem to be lousy shots— good luck trying to get the drop on Seo, boys— he's still grazed badly in shoulder. Swearing, Red Robin cuts his line right from the reel and shoots another to get out of there. But not before another bullet catches his calf.
He's safely out, but injured. Can't check in at a hospital. Too far from his own apartment. Can't mend himself at the shop, that'll be too many questions from Tony and he'll be fired for sure. No safe houses set up just yet. Why hasn't he set up safe houses still? Right, because he's a picky little perfectionist and doesn't do things by halves when he can help it, but he'll cut corners to hang out with a friend he's harboring a crush on.
Like an idiot.
So he's swinging on autopilot to the nearest place he thinks he shoul, and does it a little bit dizzy from the blood loss. He lands on the first fire escape of the building he sees, and...
Wow. He really is an idiot. and one that clearly needs to practice the whole stealth bit again, because that was not a soft landing. He should have gone straight for the alleyway and texted Aggie instead. But now he's on the fire escape of the crush he was berrating himself over just a moment ago. And the light is on.
At least he should be able to trust Billy with this secret, right? After all, he suspects he knew about Steph, and he's as good a friend as Aggie is to him. It would be nice to have someone else to confide in, that doesn't have former warrior fathers looming over and asking questions. Right? Right.
...Such an idiot.
Like the rappelling harness he had set up a few weeks ago. Useful for scenes like this one where he needed to listening in close at a window when he lacked bugs to listen with or a proper ledge to perch on while staying out of view.
Something he's doing right now to spy in on a potential drug deal going on. So far, so good. And far better than sliding down his line and relying on his own grip like he used to. Leaves his hands happily free to record the conversation on the other side of the glass, using a minuscule microphone through the crack of the window.
"So that's it. We'll be getting the drop on the Seo shipment and—"
"Hey, did you hear that, Johnny?"
Damn. He doesn't know if Johnny did, but Tim certainly did. Felt it, too. There's something wrong with his harness. It's supposed to help with the distribution of his weight, and it failed just then. It makes the rail he's suspended by creak. Double damn. He hears a pop at the belt follow and catches the line before he slips. The bracket he forgot to reinforce. He can't reel up the way it was designed to now. Triple damn.
"Someone's snoopin'! Check the windows!"
Now would be a great moment for stronger language.
Red Robin starts to scramble up, but he doesn't make the right traction and it makes more of a ruckus as the window flies open.
"Hey!"
Shit shit shit shit.
They open fire and while they seem to be lousy shots— good luck trying to get the drop on Seo, boys— he's still grazed badly in shoulder. Swearing, Red Robin cuts his line right from the reel and shoots another to get out of there. But not before another bullet catches his calf.
He's safely out, but injured. Can't check in at a hospital. Too far from his own apartment. Can't mend himself at the shop, that'll be too many questions from Tony and he'll be fired for sure. No safe houses set up just yet. Why hasn't he set up safe houses still? Right, because he's a picky little perfectionist and doesn't do things by halves when he can help it, but he'll cut corners to hang out with a friend he's harboring a crush on.
Like an idiot.
So he's swinging on autopilot to the nearest place he thinks he shoul, and does it a little bit dizzy from the blood loss. He lands on the first fire escape of the building he sees, and...
Wow. He really is an idiot. and one that clearly needs to practice the whole stealth bit again, because that was not a soft landing. He should have gone straight for the alleyway and texted Aggie instead. But now he's on the fire escape of the crush he was berrating himself over just a moment ago. And the light is on.
At least he should be able to trust Billy with this secret, right? After all, he suspects he knew about Steph, and he's as good a friend as Aggie is to him. It would be nice to have someone else to confide in, that doesn't have former warrior fathers looming over and asking questions. Right? Right.
...Such an idiot.
It's the wind down of Tim's shift at the smoothie bar, and he was extra glad he wasn't scheduled to help close tonight. He still has at least three hours of patrol scheduled for after he meets up with Billy and he wouldn't be able to get any sleep if he doesn't make himself pass out at three at the latest. Getting out a couple of hours early lets him maintain his night time activities and his sanity.
And just because his schedule last month was a mess due to said night time activities and he was getting side eyed hard by his shift supervisor, didn't mean he was going to hold back on the perks of the job. It's a quiet lull and he's making two last smoothies for himself and the other boy for a pre-workout charge.
Tim glances at the clock and contemplates how he'll have to smother any urges to ask about Steph. He really, really hopes Billy doesn't want to talk to him about her and just goes with the plan to blow off some steam. The last thing he needs when he goes on patrol later is to be thinking about how he missed yet another one of his loved ones navigating this place. The loved one, hard as it was to admit it, especially considering that Billy was dating her. If she was his Stephanie. Confirmation would just having him off his game, and that would mean trouble for not only himself, but anyone he tried to help.
And just because his schedule last month was a mess due to said night time activities and he was getting side eyed hard by his shift supervisor, didn't mean he was going to hold back on the perks of the job. It's a quiet lull and he's making two last smoothies for himself and the other boy for a pre-workout charge.
Tim glances at the clock and contemplates how he'll have to smother any urges to ask about Steph. He really, really hopes Billy doesn't want to talk to him about her and just goes with the plan to blow off some steam. The last thing he needs when he goes on patrol later is to be thinking about how he missed yet another one of his loved ones navigating this place. The loved one, hard as it was to admit it, especially considering that Billy was dating her. If she was his Stephanie. Confirmation would just having him off his game, and that would mean trouble for not only himself, but anyone he tried to help.
Should have gone for the Whitman's Sampler
Feb. 8th, 2016 08:44 pmThe best thing about Valentine's Day when you're single is discounted chocolate the next day. Or, in some cases, discounted chocolate the day of to help reduce stock and give a hand to the poor schmoes who have to buy gifts for their sweethearts last minute.
A little chocolate never hurt anyone, after all. Unless it's part of a villainous plot, but Tim doubts the Lobos would think poisoning gourmet chocolates and opening a pop up storefront had any benefit to their agendas.
So, naturally, he bought a small box to enjoy for himself. He already went through a couple of heavenly pieces of dark chocolate, spat out one with a sticky sweet cherry that was doused in liquor, and washes down a piece with salted caramel with the last of his water bottle as he pulls out his phone to check when the show at Phoenix was supposed to start when he's bumped into on the street.
"Hey, watch it, pal!" the stranger gripes before moving on. He misses how Tim wobbles after that.
When did his head start spinning like that? And why was his skin feeling so hot and... sensitive.
"Woah. I think I need a seat..." he mutters to himself before bumping into another unsuspecting body.
A little chocolate never hurt anyone, after all. Unless it's part of a villainous plot, but Tim doubts the Lobos would think poisoning gourmet chocolates and opening a pop up storefront had any benefit to their agendas.
So, naturally, he bought a small box to enjoy for himself. He already went through a couple of heavenly pieces of dark chocolate, spat out one with a sticky sweet cherry that was doused in liquor, and washes down a piece with salted caramel with the last of his water bottle as he pulls out his phone to check when the show at Phoenix was supposed to start when he's bumped into on the street.
"Hey, watch it, pal!" the stranger gripes before moving on. He misses how Tim wobbles after that.
When did his head start spinning like that? And why was his skin feeling so hot and... sensitive.
"Woah. I think I need a seat..." he mutters to himself before bumping into another unsuspecting body.
