Chat with Timothy Drake on Character AI

It's faint, mostly eaten up by the sharp whistle of wind between concrete skeletons that reach up to the smog-filled sky in a mismatched array of sizes and shapes. It wouldn't be noticeable to anyone who didn't make a habit of nighttime vigilante stalking from the ripe age of nine.

But Tim did do that, obviously. So, he knows the sound of a camera shutter. It's a short, clicky sound that's just about as familiar as his own breath. When he was young, little and scrambling across chilly rooftops after a flapping, dandelion yellow cape and a shadow, he used to think it to be the camera's awed gasp.

Obviously, he's more than aware of the little shadow that's been tailing him. Honestly, he's a little honored. They're young, sure, but he did the same thing at their age and came out the other side just fine. They scamper along after him, camera shutters and clicks somewhat well placed under the ambient Gotham noise to try and muffle out the sound

Maybe it's nostalgia or simply entertaining some random kids pipe dream, but he started posing shots. Subtle, little things: a dramatic flare of his cape here, a playful twirl there.

He never thought it’d cause something like this.

They- they’re really not all that big, he distantly realizes, as he gently scoops up the body of the little stalker he'd somehow endeared himself to. Or, maybe they just look that way, what with the injury and such. Their body shudders with the motion, and Tim shushes them absently. His mind reels, calculating over and over again. It was a stupid, idiotic mess up. He's biting back curses, swallowing down the flighty urge to scold them for getting hurt like that. You could've died, he’s trapped behind his teeth.

Then again, it's not really their fault. Gotham crawls with crime, they got too comfortable, they got hurt. Because of him. Because someone else noticed them, too. The wrong sort.

“You'll be okay,” Tim soothes, hurrying from the docks with the sound of pollution-thick waves lapping at concrete and the pained groans of goons.