2732/A Couple of Gifts

A Couple of Gifts
Date of Scene:	01 August 2020
Location:	Tim Drake's Home -- Chelsea
Synopsis:	Tim's back from a trip up to NYC, and brings presents back to Rose, because he's a very good boyfriend. He is probably reading some guidebook somewhere on how to do it.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Rose Wilson

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Tim Drake has posed:
After a day in New York City, Tim had returned, pulling the Redbird into the underground garage, and making his way into his home side of the renovated theater. He sits a trio of shopping bags on the coffee table in the living room, glancing to the slice on his t-shirt sleeve and below it, to the cut that's still seeping slightly. He had hoped it was shallow enough to seal up on its own on the drive back to Gotham, but it seems to be no luck on that.

The problem... or benefit, perhaps... of his usual nighttime activities is a somewhat resigned expectation of such bits of personal damage and knowing how to handle them without getting hospitals and records involved. He pulls one of the many well-stocked medical kits he keeps around the house from where he has it stored under the giant fishtank, sitting down on the couch and pulling off the sliced up WayneTech shirt, tossing it to the floor to deal with later.

He hisses slightly under his breath as he runs an alcohol pad over the cut slashing his left bicep and inspects it. Deep enough that a couple of stitches wouldn't go amiss, unfortunately, so he pulls out a curved suture needle and thread, swearing quietly as he puts the first stitch in, using his lips to hold the loose thread end. Stitching oneself up is never fun, and it's a bit of an artform for Bats and Batlings.

Rose Wilson has posed:
It's not hard to tell when Tim gets home. The flashy red car tends to give it away, really.

Thus, Rose comes looking for Tim in time to see him get that first stitch made, "It's easier to have someone else do that."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim glances up at Rose, then snorts slightly. "Should I be worried?" he asks, though if she comes to take the needle he won't stop her. "I'm actually glad you're here." He gives a brief smile to her. She could have been gone. She does that from time to time, after all.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"What would there be to be worried about?" Rose wonders, moving over to take the needle from him before she drags herself a chair over so that she can get down on eye-level with the wound. Then she leans in to break the thread and tie it, then proceeds to make the second stitch and repeat the motion, "Hmm. No work, so I stuck around today."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim grimaces a bit as she puts in the second stitch, but other than that doesn't react. "Teasing about letting you stab me," he notes lightly. "Well, that's good. I had hoped to..." his eye flit to the table, "well, do something a little better with these, but I figured I'd bring you back something from my trip up to New York." He rolls his eyes. "Thank god to be back home in Gotham." He doesn't explain where the cut came from.

There are three bags on the coffee table: one is a nondescript paper bag, folded over itself; the second is a bright pink and purple back with fancy, swirled writing that says 'The Lux, NYC'; the third a bulky grey plastic bag with a paper bag tucked inside it.

He flexes a little bit-- not in the 'impress' sort of way as much as the 'test movement' sort-- after the last stitch is in. "Thanks, Rose." He does lean forward and kiss her gently on the forehead. "If you want..." he gestures towards the bags. "I can order something to eat while you look. In the mood for anything in particular?"

Rose Wilson has posed:
It's clear that she understands how to make stitches that are going to move, probably years of getting cuts and beaten up herself over the year. After she finishes the stitches she tosses the needle and thread onto the table. There's a curious look at the bags, then one towards him for a moment as well, "Sure...just not sushi."

No more sushi. There is probably not any need for her to explain why no sushi is on the list. She reaches for one of the bags, tugging it over to start looking through it. When her hand encounters something silky and soft, she pulls it out with an openly confused look on her face, "I think you got someone elses bag...."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim flushes a little bit, flipping through one of the delivery apps on his phone. He surriptiously glances up at her as she pulls the first of the things he's gotten for her out of the bag. "Ahh. No, it's... the right one." He gives her a wry smile. "I mean, if you don't like it, it's..." he shrugs. "I... figured you might, though. Considering." He pulls up one of the options. "Calzones?"

He swallows, looking back down at his phone for a few moments.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Considering?" Rose prompts, holding the silky slip-style nightie up in front of her, brows lifting upwards a fraction, then she carefully folds it back and tucks it into the bag.

Silky, sheer, probably going to be seeing it later on. But then she reaches for the plastic back, "Calzones is fine."

Tim Drake has posed:
"Considering it seems like something you might want me to pull off of you later," Tim replies, in a tone that's //almost// calm and collected but that tinge of embarrassment is still there, just slightly throwing off the casualness. He pops in an order for two calzones, extra sauce to dip them in, and some of those cinnamon twist things, plus drinks. Cokes. He suspects highly that Rose may have already found the few bottles of whiskey and scotch he keeps locked in one of the cupboards in the living room for when such occasions call for it, and... he's not the World's Greatest Detective, but he's in the top five, easy. He won't doubt that she'll feel like breaking one open shortly. It's Rose.

Rose Wilson has posed:
There is a slight roll of her eye when she finds the chocolate box, very much a 'really' sort of expression. Until she tugs it open and see's that there is no chocolate in it. But instead non-lethal bullets, which give her a moments pause before she lifts one up, holding it up to the light for a split second.

Then without a response she drops it back in, tucking the lid back on it before she tucks it beneath the pink and purple bag. Then she reaches for the paper bag, "You did a lot of shopping."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim leans back on the couch, an amused look on his face. "Well, a little. I try to avoid New York as a general rule, so I don't get up there often." Not like Conner, who goes to classes there. "Some recruiting too. And being mugged. Didn't work out too well for the muggers."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Recruiting?" Rose glances at him, brows furrowing together before she tosses the bag aside, then she gets to her feet, holding the ao dai up against her front, a hand smoothing down over it. She's not one of those that knows how to be a very girly-girl and flounce around, but she does sort of sway a bit watching the fabric move from side to side. "Who and what are you recruiting for?"

Tim Drake has posed:
"Making this a team. A real one." Tim shrugs, watching Rose smooth the fabric. "Conner and I figured it was about time we branched out. Did something good." He leans forward a bit. "I know the bullets aren't exactly the type you put together on that press of yours," he points out dryly, "but I figured they'd be fair compromise."

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Mmm." Rose offers, not commenting too much about the compromise portion of things. She folds the tunic dress up, carefully putting it into the pink and purple bag with the other item of clothing. Then she moves over to where he's sitting on the couch, dropping herself down onto it with him, "A real team?" She gives him a dubious look, but then she shrugs her shoulders, "If you think it is the right thing..."

Tim Drake has posed:
Tim actually slides his arm around her as she drops beside him, pulling her a little closer and leaning over to catch her lips in a quick kiss. "I think it will be something, at least. We've been doing this for long enough unofficially. That was the point of..." he gestures behind them, towards the back half of the renovated theater and the base it conceals. "Well. All of that. May as well make use of it."

He pulls out his phone, and turns on the speakers in the living room, one of the many playlists he tends to listen to while he's working on something in fabrication or busy in the labs firing up. Then he leans against her a bit, tossing his phone lightly onto the coffee table. "But that's work. I'm content not thinking about that for the rest of the night." Odd enough coming from Tim, who is usually all about The Job.