I mean, that does sound Riddler-esque... so... yeah. Do you mean Saw?
[This feels like it could be going into 'Whose On First?' territory... 'yes, that's what I'm saying I Saw!!', so he's going to move right along.]
Bruce won't let that happen. A lot of people won't let that happen. Lucius has a lot of defenders in this Gotham... a lot of little birds.
[Like Luke himself. Another little bird, so to speak. Bruce had so many allies here, was so stuffed and suffused with them, it was actually surprising there wasn't more pain, more loss. That they held so steadfast and tightly, not letting anyone fall through the cracks. Not after Jason's loss; not after Babs, her legs...
Not if they could help it.
Tim has no doubt that he's not what John is looking for-- in this world or any other-- and it puts him at ease. He'll get bored, eventually, he assumes. Robin is no substitute for Batman. Tim doesn't know, yet, about his own world's Joker's obsession with him over some of the older and younger little songbirds. Doesn't know yet of a few possible fates, threading the air with a dissonant hum, that could become his future...
Junior.
He sighs again.]
One, I undressed you first, so we're even on the creep scale.
Two... [Eyeing him, and then eyeing the outside world.]
Okay... fine. For now, anyway. Just until Bruce is back, and then it's his marching orders. You don't make many friends in the Batcave when you're not the good little solider, okay? But no one is going to hurt you here. You saved my life. We wouldn't have hurt you even if you hadn't, but that means something to this family.
[He'd remove the rest of the armor and the suiting himself, stripping easily down to his underwear, bizarrely unselfconscious. Bizarre, because in any other situation he would be self-conscious, but this is Robin not Tim, and this is wound care, not a striptease.
Once undone, he'd go back to the computer and start pressing blipping buttons to complete some full-room scans on their bodies. If he wasn't leaving, he needed the tech to prescribe and dole out the meds, and he'd need some aid kits for cleanup before they could rest.]
You keep the cot, in that case. I'll take the floor.
Hmmm... But you know, just maybe, some extra defenses for Wayne Towers couldn't hurt. For a rainy day.
[ Obviously John doesn't care about Spoilers-- or doesn't care enough to hide them from Tim, a Bat-Adjacent comrade. He already mentioned 'missiles', and could likely be probed for more info on exactly what led to Lucius' death (in order to avoid it), if the conversation wasn't already threaded through so many variant topics. Fates are tricky-- sometimes met on the road to avoid them, but that cautious wisdom is beyond this wet-behind-the-ears Joker variant.
Tim might find his caution in knowing of The Clown Prince of Crime's Occasional Obsession with Tim Drake specifically; he might find it in knowing the threads of Harley Quinn (or even other, less stable Robins) woven through this strange mess of a person. Maybe it's better for John that someone, anyone can handle him without treating him like the ticking time bomb he absolutely is. ]
REALLY? Okay, okay! I promise to be on my best behavior! [ When he straightens to full height for an obliging salute, that stark height difference rolls into focus. John Doe and a younger Bruce Wayne share the same height measurements, placing the pale man's glad and beaming grin like a Halloween crescent over Tim's head. Quietly, in the back of his own mind, he's grateful for the way his skin disguises the rush of heat to his face as the words "good little solider" run sideways and smoldering across his perception. Whew. Warm in here suddenly? ]
If you say so, but... I'd still rather you be here and conscious to explain that, to Brucie or any other uh... birdies. Plus, I gotta say... it's weird here, like really weird, so it's nice to not be alone. Don't-- don't sit your bruised butt on the floor though, look, I'll bunch up nice and small...
[ Cue John trying to fit his lanky self onto that cot, with Robin's stacked armor to one side, and leave enough space for Tim, too. ] See? Plenty of room! [ There's not, but somehow John's almost folded his knees into his own ribcage in a valiant effort to split the sorely minimal medical real-estate available. An extremely clumsy effort at kindness, but an effort regardless. ]
[The intel was interesting, but potentially not useful. Bruce had planned for pretty much all eventualities. Maybe even a temporal one, like this. But it probably helped John to talk and have people listen. Setting up a defensive system around that? ...Ehhh.
Tim would therefore listen to his next bit of ramble, starting to find his manner and mode of speech... cute, kind of? Endearing, at least. He'd inform the computer of his needs and out through a tube in the cell popped two little cocktails of pills. One for him, one for John. Then he'd open a first aid kit, take out alcohol swabs and gauze and jelly, and get to work on himself like he had John.]
Don't worry about explaining. Bruce will put two and two together. And if he doesn't? He'll trust I have the situation under control and will apprise him when I'm awake and on my feet again. He's my partner. We have trust.
[ This Bruce is exactly as prepared as John's Bruce (alone and unpracticed) was not; Wayne Towers simply didn't have the same technical defenses as The Batcave, at the time; a mistake that Gotham's first masked vigilante probably only made once, with the cost being a life of a friend. ]
Okay, well maybe I am kinda... nervous about seeing him-- or being seen by him, I guess. You're... nicer than he is, kind of... softer? And it still took... all of this for you to trust me, just a bit.
I get he's not my Bruce, but... man, I don't think I could handle him being disappointed in me all over again. I can't think of a worse feeling...
[ Drawn into himself as is, it's easy for the lanky man to rest his sharp chin on the bone of his bent knees as he closely observes Tim's first aid skills. He'll take those offered pills and give them a quick scan before a shrug and a quick swallow, downing them dry like he's far to accustomed to being given pills and no water to take them. Seriously Arkham, isn't water free? ]
Guess you wouldn't know anything about that, Mr. Perfect Side Kick [ He scowls at Tim, just closer to teasing, a sparkle of mirth crossing his sideways hazel gaze. ]. Must be nice.
[Tim was softer than all of them. A bit-- darker than Dick, certainly, more prone to moods and brooding (but less prone to bouts of anger and isolation, he'd argue), but was otherwise an outlier. A good boy, the empathetic one, the one who favored intelligence and thoughtfulness often at the expense of his own body. It was that second of hesitation that came from the wealth of grace he wanted to afford others that often got him in trouble. He was chronic about it.]
But you can't blame us. We have a lot at stake here. Some of the Rogue's Gallery, if they knew our identities? They'd do... terrible things. I don't mean the Joker, or Ra's; they both kind of know who we are an ignore it, mostly; but guys like Two-Face, Penguin, and Pyg? ...Pyg is dangerous to us even in our civvies, so.
[A shudder.]
Bruce is perpetually disappointed. I wouldn't let it get to you.
[Bruce and judgement went together like peas in pods. Chase his approval? And you'd run your legs ragged.
He'd take his own pills, bandage up, then put on one of the hospital gowns in the cell for its thin warmth, handing the other to John.]
Perfect sidekick...? I'm his third. Of-- several. I'm probably his best, because I conform to him; I don't seek to be my own hero, I seek to be his best possible partner. And that, for the most part, has been the case. That said, I'm hardly perfect. And it's a lot of hard work.
[ John's still running all his assumptions off a younger, greener, perhaps meaner version of The Batman (and Bruce) than Tim knows, but there are as many Constants as Variables in the equation; enough stays the same, through what changes, that John's instincts usually lead in the right direction at least, causing him to seek and see what (and who) he's missing from home in Other places and people. ]
Oooh, dropping names are we? Color me curious... Gunna have to read up on Ra and Pyg, everyone else already rings a bell and yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want them coming home to meet the family for crumpets and extra British tea. You can just -ask- me to keep my mouth shut, you know. I'm very good at keeping secrets. All the guards in Arkham confided in me.
[ The fact that John thinks Homework about infamous criminals is a fun pass time is either an enormous red flag or a sign that his fixation needs a constructive purpose. If only he had access to The Batcomputer's files, the research he would be diving into-- the torrents of intel poured into the hungry caverns of his brain. Serial Killer Nerds, man.
He's also truly doing his best to make room for Tim to sit, once he's ready. The armor gets another re-stack and shuffle sideways so John can scoot over another inch and a half, before winding himself back into that neuro-spicy-comfy bundle around his own core. ]
Oh my god, I know right? And this one doesn't even know how bad I... well, this one probably has baggage from The Other Me just like you did. I'll TRY not to take it personally, But truth be told... it's gunna be hard. Bruce is kinda... my only real friend. It helps that you're here.
[ He takes the hospital gown and uses it like a pillow, propping his head against the wall behind him as he runs another curious scan over his impromptu host. ]
That's exactly what I want-- exactly what I tried to do! I was just ... I messed up. Really, really, really badly. Did... you ever mess up? Even once?
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no subject
[This feels like it could be going into 'Whose On First?' territory... 'yes, that's what I'm saying I Saw!!', so he's going to move right along.]
Bruce won't let that happen. A lot of people won't let that happen. Lucius has a lot of defenders in this Gotham... a lot of little birds.
[Like Luke himself. Another little bird, so to speak. Bruce had so many allies here, was so stuffed and suffused with them, it was actually surprising there wasn't more pain, more loss. That they held so steadfast and tightly, not letting anyone fall through the cracks. Not after Jason's loss; not after Babs, her legs...
Not if they could help it.
Tim has no doubt that he's not what John is looking for-- in this world or any other-- and it puts him at ease. He'll get bored, eventually, he assumes. Robin is no substitute for Batman. Tim doesn't know, yet, about his own world's Joker's obsession with him over some of the older and younger little songbirds. Doesn't know yet of a few possible fates, threading the air with a dissonant hum, that could become his future...
Junior.
He sighs again.]
One, I undressed you first, so we're even on the creep scale.
Two... [Eyeing him, and then eyeing the outside world.]
Okay... fine. For now, anyway. Just until Bruce is back, and then it's his marching orders. You don't make many friends in the Batcave when you're not the good little solider, okay? But no one is going to hurt you here. You saved my life. We wouldn't have hurt you even if you hadn't, but that means something to this family.
[He'd remove the rest of the armor and the suiting himself, stripping easily down to his underwear, bizarrely unselfconscious. Bizarre, because in any other situation he would be self-conscious, but this is Robin not Tim, and this is wound care, not a striptease.
Once undone, he'd go back to the computer and start pressing blipping buttons to complete some full-room scans on their bodies. If he wasn't leaving, he needed the tech to prescribe and dole out the meds, and he'd need some aid kits for cleanup before they could rest.]
You keep the cot, in that case. I'll take the floor.
no subject
[ Obviously John doesn't care about Spoilers-- or doesn't care enough to hide them from Tim, a Bat-Adjacent comrade. He already mentioned 'missiles', and could likely be probed for more info on exactly what led to Lucius' death (in order to avoid it), if the conversation wasn't already threaded through so many variant topics. Fates are tricky-- sometimes met on the road to avoid them, but that cautious wisdom is beyond this wet-behind-the-ears Joker variant.
Tim might find his caution in knowing of The Clown Prince of Crime's Occasional Obsession with Tim Drake specifically; he might find it in knowing the threads of Harley Quinn (or even other, less stable Robins) woven through this strange mess of a person. Maybe it's better for John that someone, anyone can handle him without treating him like the ticking time bomb he absolutely is. ]
REALLY? Okay, okay! I promise to be on my best behavior! [ When he straightens to full height for an obliging salute, that stark height difference rolls into focus. John Doe and a younger Bruce Wayne share the same height measurements, placing the pale man's glad and beaming grin like a Halloween crescent over Tim's head. Quietly, in the back of his own mind, he's grateful for the way his skin disguises the rush of heat to his face as the words "good little solider" run sideways and smoldering across his perception. Whew. Warm in here suddenly? ]
If you say so, but... I'd still rather you be here and conscious to explain that, to Brucie or any other uh... birdies. Plus, I gotta say... it's weird here, like really weird, so it's nice to not be alone. Don't-- don't sit your bruised butt on the floor though, look, I'll bunch up nice and small...
[ Cue John trying to fit his lanky self onto that cot, with Robin's stacked armor to one side, and leave enough space for Tim, too. ] See? Plenty of room! [ There's not, but somehow John's almost folded his knees into his own ribcage in a valiant effort to split the sorely minimal medical real-estate available. An extremely clumsy effort at kindness, but an effort regardless. ]
no subject
Tim would therefore listen to his next bit of ramble, starting to find his manner and mode of speech... cute, kind of? Endearing, at least. He'd inform the computer of his needs and out through a tube in the cell popped two little cocktails of pills. One for him, one for John. Then he'd open a first aid kit, take out alcohol swabs and gauze and jelly, and get to work on himself like he had John.]
Don't worry about explaining. Bruce will put two and two together. And if he doesn't? He'll trust I have the situation under control and will apprise him when I'm awake and on my feet again. He's my partner. We have trust.
no subject
Okay, well maybe I am kinda... nervous about seeing him-- or being seen by him, I guess. You're... nicer than he is, kind of... softer? And it still took... all of this for you to trust me, just a bit.
I get he's not my Bruce, but... man, I don't think I could handle him being disappointed in me all over again. I can't think of a worse feeling...
[ Drawn into himself as is, it's easy for the lanky man to rest his sharp chin on the bone of his bent knees as he closely observes Tim's first aid skills. He'll take those offered pills and give them a quick scan before a shrug and a quick swallow, downing them dry like he's far to accustomed to being given pills and no water to take them. Seriously Arkham, isn't water free? ]
Guess you wouldn't know anything about that, Mr. Perfect Side Kick [ He scowls at Tim, just closer to teasing, a sparkle of mirth crossing his sideways hazel gaze. ]. Must be nice.
no subject
[Tim was softer than all of them. A bit-- darker than Dick, certainly, more prone to moods and brooding (but less prone to bouts of anger and isolation, he'd argue), but was otherwise an outlier. A good boy, the empathetic one, the one who favored intelligence and thoughtfulness often at the expense of his own body. It was that second of hesitation that came from the wealth of grace he wanted to afford others that often got him in trouble. He was chronic about it.]
But you can't blame us. We have a lot at stake here. Some of the Rogue's Gallery, if they knew our identities? They'd do... terrible things. I don't mean the Joker, or Ra's; they both kind of know who we are an ignore it, mostly; but guys like Two-Face, Penguin, and Pyg? ...Pyg is dangerous to us even in our civvies, so.
[A shudder.]
Bruce is perpetually disappointed. I wouldn't let it get to you.
[Bruce and judgement went together like peas in pods. Chase his approval? And you'd run your legs ragged.
He'd take his own pills, bandage up, then put on one of the hospital gowns in the cell for its thin warmth, handing the other to John.]
Perfect sidekick...? I'm his third. Of-- several. I'm probably his best, because I conform to him; I don't seek to be my own hero, I seek to be his best possible partner. And that, for the most part, has been the case. That said, I'm hardly perfect. And it's a lot of hard work.
no subject
Oooh, dropping names are we? Color me curious... Gunna have to read up on Ra and Pyg, everyone else already rings a bell and yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want them coming home to meet the family for crumpets and extra British tea. You can just -ask- me to keep my mouth shut, you know. I'm very good at keeping secrets. All the guards in Arkham confided in me.
[ The fact that John thinks Homework about infamous criminals is a fun pass time is either an enormous red flag or a sign that his fixation needs a constructive purpose. If only he had access to The Batcomputer's files, the research he would be diving into-- the torrents of intel poured into the hungry caverns of his brain. Serial Killer Nerds, man.
He's also truly doing his best to make room for Tim to sit, once he's ready. The armor gets another re-stack and shuffle sideways so John can scoot over another inch and a half, before winding himself back into that neuro-spicy-comfy bundle around his own core. ]
Oh my god, I know right? And this one doesn't even know how bad I... well, this one probably has baggage from The Other Me just like you did. I'll TRY not to take it personally, But truth be told... it's gunna be hard. Bruce is kinda... my only real friend. It helps that you're here.
[ He takes the hospital gown and uses it like a pillow, propping his head against the wall behind him as he runs another curious scan over his impromptu host. ]
That's exactly what I want-- exactly what I tried to do! I was just ... I messed up. Really, really, really badly. Did... you ever mess up? Even once?