14160/The Subtle Art of Not Spoiling the Big Reveal

The Subtle Art of Not Spoiling the Big Reveal
Date of Scene:	16 February 2023
Location:	Batcave
Synopsis:	Post-patrol, Tim and Phoebe decompress with some ice cream and talk about their BOYFRAAAAAAANDS.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Phoebe Beacon

---

Tim Drake has posed:
    Running up against Killer Croc is never a good time when you're a Bat. Number one is, of course, on account of how dangerous he is. One good smack across the chest from his tail and chances are you're down for the count, and then there's the teeth and the claws, which are... well, worse.

    Secondly, though, and more importantly -- because who amongst the Bats has any kind of self preservation in the face of danger? -- is that he lives in the sewers.

    And the sewers? Are stinky.

    It's not all that often that Tim ends patrol by coming back to Wayne Manor, not when he has his own house and partner (and fluffy dog) waiting for him. But it always makes more sense to end up in the Cave after a particularly olfactorially-trying encounter, because the facilities down here can't be beat. The Red Robin armor is already locked away in a decontamination cycle while Tim himself stands on one of the overlooking platforms, elbows resting on the guard rail as he bends his head over.

    Because he's still toweling his hair dry. He only washed it, what, like five times?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe had come to help with a well-timed flashbang, but was also pretty well stanked by the sewers. It was a completely different variety of Gotham Funk that she didn't care for because even with magic, it took a lot of effort to get out, which is why she's got her hair in a towel wrap, and is wearing a dark red sweatshirt and yoga pants covered with tiny rainbow Baphomets, because she pretty much lived at the Manor.

    Easier to make sure she doesn't run off when it's Alfred minding her after all.

    "WELP. That was bad." she states, slippered feet tapping softly against the platform grates as she joins Tim.

Tim Drake has posed:
    It's chilly in the Bat Cave so Tim's thin tank top and shorts probably aren't doing him any favors, but he'd cranked up the hot water just about as high as it would go. He's still a little red and splotchy from it, truth be told, but better than than the sewer funk.

    "Sure was," he says from underneath the shroud of his towel, which after a moment he wraps up and tucks onto his head. No, even with growing his hair out, it's not long enough to need that. The smile on his face says it's probably just to mess around.

    Tim turns on his heel to lean backwards against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankle. Leaning like that, he's going to lose the towel over the edge and then it'll fall down into the depths of the Cave, never to be seen again (until Alfred finds it, probably). "But it could've been worse. And we saved that kid who got stuck down there, too." The kid in question had slipped into a storm drain on a dare from his friends. It'd only been blind luck that he'd ran into two foul-smelling vigilantes and not the bad guy they were down there to find. "Hey. You good?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe takes a moment to ruffle the towel on Tim's head as he shrouds in it. One of the few people she was comfortable with that casual sort of contact, and she leans forward over the railing, looking out over the cave.

    "Yeah, thank goodness he found us instead of wanderin' into Old Gotham or running into Croc." Phoebe replies with a slight smile. "Two-for-one deal."

    And at the question he poses, Phoeb gives Tim a bit of a side-eye, eyebrows drawing up.

    "Is that in response to the whack I got across the chest which *definitely* broke a couple ribs and knocked the breath outta me through the armor, or is this an 'in general' question?" she asks, and then she exhales, turning back to look over the cave again.

    "... because good is such a weird thing to be on account of all the weird stuff that's gone on in the last few months."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The ruffling gets some muted laughter from Tim before he adjusts his position. And despite all laws of physics, somehow the towel remains on his head. He looks ridiculous, because again: his hair is not long enough to justify this whatsoever, but he also looks comfortable. Despite the chill.

    Maybe it's just being in the Cave. There's something about it that Tim seems to still be drawn to, his eyes as full of wonder as he looks up at the stalactites as they were when he was a young teen coming in for the first time, newly accepted as Robin.

    "Por que no los dos?" he asks, accent crisp, and then his head rolls so that he can look over at Phoebe.

    ...Whiiiiich is precisely when the towel starts to slip, but his heroic reflexes catch it in time, and he throws it over towards the bin outside the bathroom facilities.

    Does it make it in? Yes, of course it does. Something something trigonometry something something kinematics. Basically, he did the math.

    Phoebe's admittance makes him smile. "Good is good, no matter the circumstances. Face it, Pheebs, our lives are always going to be weird to some degree. If you find something good in all of this, then don't hold back just because you're worried about it being the right time," is his answer.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ha ha haaa..." Phoebe begins, with a wheeze to the laugh and then a soft 'aaaah' sound, and she looks to Tim with the classic 'Phoebe has Guilt' expression, and she breathes out in a huff through her nose. "My chest is fine. Healed before I even got into the shower. Just took a hot minute because of all the little cracks everywhere, but a well-developed muscular system will hold things in like a corset or splint for a bit of time in some cases, and I mean we're kinda peak of the human condition." she states, explaining the medical side of things as she touches her own ribs through the sweatshirt she was wearing, and then she tilts her head back a moment.

    "Been tracking a drug dealer that's been making the rounds on campus. He said his old man and little sister rely on him, so trying to track down where he's getting his goods from so I can dry him out upstream and maybe get him in a better position, but he's involved with THe Mob. That's not my realm of expertise..." she trails off a moment, and she starts worrying at the aglets of her sweatshirt.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim gives Phoebe a very well-crafted side-eye before he tilts his head up to return to his contemplation of the cave ceiling, far above them. Even with as much toweling off as he'd done, a few drips of water escape his hair and go falling down into the abyss. If not for all of the work that already goes in to concealing the true amount of utilities that the Batcave costs, the water bill definitely would've spiked after those showers.

    He crosses his arms over his chest and moves away from the landing's edge so that he can walk to-and-fro. It's a slow pace, but a thoughtful one, and he glances at Phoebe. "The Mob always complicates things," he says. "The good news though is that the nature of their criminal dealings means they're often fairly compartmentalized. Take out his direct boss, and whoever that person reports to, and that's usually enough for a person to get lost in the shuffle of power changing hands."

    The not-quite-pacing comes to a stop in front of Phoebe. Tim's arms are pinpricked with goosebumps, because all of the energy in his body has shunted to his brain and the heat of the water has faded. "If you time things right," he adds.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah," she states, turning to face Tim as he paces, and she purses her lips. "I'm trying to track him so I can find out who he reports to. And then go up from there. Enough evidence and a well-timed tip and the supply dries up and hey, maybe he takes the card to the Wayne Industries Rapid Employment Division-" yes, WIRED "and stops in." she states in thought.
        Phoebe eyeballs Tim for a few heartbeats, looking him up and down before she sheds her oversized sweatshirt to turn over to him.

    "Already dealt with Bruce having the flu last time I had to talk on serious subjects, don't need you to catch a cold." she states with a wry smile to him. "Already pre-warmed." she offfers.

    She has a long-sleeved shirt underneath a T-shirt with a woodblock print of Cookie Monster on it.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Of course he had the flu," Tim mutters as he reaches out to accept the sweatshirt. It earns Phoebe a grateful "Thank you" as he shimmies into it, and then immediately his hands go into the front pockets to warm them.

    Even with shorts on, he's immediately much more comfortable, and he scrunches up his shoulders as he absorbs the heat from the fabric.

    Then he's back to... okay, it's pacing now. But this is one of many ways Tim gets his thoughts out, at least when he's not trying to present a calm and collected front (or when he's not stuck in front of a computer, doing Tech Stuff). "Could get a tracker on him maybe, and once we've built up a pattern of his day-to-day travel, cross-reference with known Mob hotspots. Could give us a lead."

    Though all of this is a lost cause, depending on if: "You think this guy can go straight, if we give him the opportunity?" Tim isn't playing devil's advocate for no reason, and he levels a serious look at Phoebe, mouth set in a line. Whatever her answer, Tim will have to trust it.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I think it's worth a chance to impress upon the younger sibling that opportunities exist in Gotham beyond Crime." Phoebe remarks. "I have his burner phone information and have been setting up likely places for him to be at. He didn't take the bait to sell to the rich kid on campus." she chews the inside of her cheek a moment.

    "He's also immediately said I sleep in silk sheets and don't know what it's like to struggle, but I'm willing to overlook his being an asshole to give him a chance to go on the straight and narrow." she states to Tim, looking to her 'older brother'. "But you know me," she tilts her head and shrugs a shoulder "I'm a bleeding heart."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The grim line of Tim's mouth doesn't budge, though he does nod once at mention of the younger sibling in the picture. He seems to have worked out the excess energy that he really shouldn't have after a grueling patrol (but let's be real, it's probably from that coffee he had somewhere around midnight) so the pacing slows to a stop, but he's still shuffling his feet. Who knows when he'll be able to get to sleep tonight. Or rather, this morning.

    "Kind of you," Tim says, even while he's rolling his eyes at what this nameless guy has said to Phoebe. Better to her than to Jason or Damian, he supposes, because of the--yeah, bleeding heart. He sighs and comes to stand back by Phoebe again, giving her a companionable nudge with his elbow. "Don't ever lose that. It's important. Even when the assholes try to pretend they know who you are, the truth is that you're a good person, Phoebe. You wouldn't be doing any of this if you weren't."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a smile, and she leans lightly against Tim for a moment, her arms crossing.

    "It's nice to be reminded, sometimes." she states, a little hoarse as she gives a thick swallow, and runs the back of her hand below her nose a moment before her dark eyes settle on Tim again before she opens her mouth, and takes a deep breath.

    "... so.. um..." she begins, and she taps her fingers against the railing behind her a moment. "I think..." she bgins, and she clicks her teeth nervously "I think I'm seeing someone. Kinda seriously. Speaking of no good times."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Does Tim know about this new person? Has he suspected there was something going on? Does he put a tracker on everyone he cares about so that he can stalk them in their day-to-day lives?

    No, yes, no (well, he DOES put trackers on Lonnie, but Lonnie does the same to him, it's a long story). He's not privy to ALL the details of his friends and family's personal lives, but he can read most of them well enough to hazard a guess. "Is this where we bust out the emergency ice cream and you tell me all about them?" he asks, tipping himself over to the side slightly just so he can act like he's conspiratorily whispering with Phoebe. But they're not little kids, and this isn't about little kid crushes.

    He straightens up and nods his head towards the exit of the Cave. "Because it totally could be, if you're willing to spill the deets."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe knows there's a distinct possibility that Tim was tracking her (because, well, she's proven a flight risk). She knows for a fact that Alfred tracks her (because she's a trouble magnet and on occasion he picks her up from classes at GU). And Bruce seemed like he already knew... but it was Bruce. He's *BATMAN*. She usually just assumes he knows.

    However, once its out, her shoulders relax, her ears get darker and she takes off the towel wrap, her kinky hair a little bit all over the place.

    "Depends on if Talia stole all the emergency ice cream again. Lady has great taste but needs to lay off my black raspberry." she replies, leaning in and giving a slight head-bonk to Tim.

    HE's her brother, legally, but in all other things he is her very best friend. Besides, she hasn't had a little kid crush since she crushed on Tim himself.

    "Okay, so, before anything else, he has good taste in music, he's a mechanic at his day-job, and hella respects my bodily autonomy and occasional need for space..."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Off they go, then, out of the cave towards the long halls and grand rooms of stately Wayne Manor. It's not as immediate a shift in temperature as one might expect, given just how big (and how old) the house that caps the Cave truly is. Impossible to heat it all without causing an environmental disaster, really. So Tim's grateful for the shared sweatshirt still as they enter the manor, one ear carefully listening for any sounds of potential butlery while the other tunes into what Phoebe's saying.

    "It's Robbie, isn't it?" he asks, off-the-cuff, only to wince and pull his hands out of his (well, technically Phoebe's) pockets. "Sorry! Pretend I didn't say anything so you can do the big reveal."

    Tim holds the secret door open for Phoebe as they finish their ascent, and then is careful as he makes sure it shuts tight behind them.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe halts in her tracks a moment, and then goes "You know, sometimes I wish that this /wasn't/ a family full of detectives and investigators because it'd be fun to have some mystery." she states in a flat tone, and then cracks a grin.

    "Yeah, Robbie. Kinda hinted at the Reindeer Gala that there was somethin' there." she states, bumping her shoulder against Tim as they come out.

    "At least you didn't cut immediately to his hitchhiker like Bruce did."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Isn't his hitchhiker all about vengeance and that sort of thing?" Tim shrugs one shoulder. "Seems like he'd fit right in, don't you think?"

    They make their way to the kitchen, which at the moment (AKA, way too early in the morning) is Alfred-free, and he steps over to the massive industrial refrigerator to check the freezer. "Black raspberry," he announces as he sets the carton on the island counter in the middle of the room, before he returns to the freezer for--"Java chip gelato," which joins the other carton. Then, in a stunning act of decency, Tim actually goes for spoons AND bowls, rather than having them eat straight out of the cartons. "Anyway, Robbie's gotta be less objectionable than the ex-villain anarchist that I'm seeing, so. Tell me ALL about him."

    No, Tim doesn't want to know for nefarious Bat reasons. Well, not only. He sits down with his bowl of mocha-flavored ice cream and looks expectantly at Phoebe, ready to have a good session of sibling hot goss.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You sure you wanna know *all* 'bout him?" Phoebe gives a grin, looking to Tim as she grabs out the ice cream scoop.

    "Well... I mean the man has it *all*. He's a total gear head and is able to rattle off anything about cars and he /cooks for me/ like he researched vegetarian enchiladas and like, just made them? And packed leftovers for me for lunch on patrol? And we exchanged cookies over Christmas and I'm just like 'this is going to end so badly' and it's kinda like this weird balance because he's always checking to make sure I'm OK with being touched or hugged but ohmigod his *arms*." Phoebe breathes out, and in order to stop the flow of information she just sticks her spoon in her mouth, though it's clear she's blushing in spite of her skintone; her ears are darker.

    "And I kinda think like... this might last. We had a talk about communication and it's weirdly healthy and wholesome in spite of the fact that he occasionally turns into a burning skull on fire vengeance spirit and his car spits fire."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Meanwhile, Tim is slowly working his way through his own bowl of ice cream, only offering "Yeah"s and "Uh huh"s at appropriate times. It's Phoebe's chance to gush as much as she wants about Robbie, while Tim only cups his cheek in his palm and listens.

    "There are worse things he could turn into," Tim supposes, in-between spoonfuls of ice cream. "So, how'd you two first meet?"