7681/Overdue Returns

Overdue Returns
Date of Scene:	03 September 2021
Location:	Library - Wayne Manor
Synopsis:	Two concurrent investigations are discussed. Bruce provides a key piece of information that helps Tim run down a lead.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

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Tim Drake has posed:
    Though no longer a resident of Wayne Manor, Tim is hardly a stranger within its walls. He shows up semi-often for meals and the various public appearances that come with the surname appended to his birth name, and maintains regular contact. Mostly focused on his work with the Outsiders when it comes to the 'official' communications, such as they are.

    He isn't here for any social obligations today, though. Tim passes through the halls like a ghost--an admittedly determined one--and esconces himself in the library. Here for the long haul, whatever his purpose may be, given the casual clothing. Gotham Knights hoodie (not that Tim cares about sports), jeans, backpack slung over one shoulder. Big enough for a computer, not for a spare Red Robin costume.

    There's probably one down in the Batcave though. In case of emergencies.

    But he doesn't have patrol duty tonight anyway, even with hours to spare before that becomes a concern. He's set himself up in one of the seating areas, though with a pillow on the ground and stacks of books in some sort of organization scheme that only he understands sarranged within a semi-circle. His laptop is on the edge of the nearby table but Tim himself is at the top of a ladder nearby, one arm hooked over a rung as he pages through a book balances in the crook of his arm.

    Whatever he's looking for, it's not this one, and he blows out a breath through his nose as he slots the book back where it came from.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"You're about due to start your own library," comes Bruce's voice from behind Tim, having appeared in the room with out warning in that way he's famous for, "You know what they say about never lending books."

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

The library itself uses a cataloguing system, of course, but it is a system of Bruce's own design. To that end, he and Alfred have only ever been the ones capable of truly and efficiently searching through the stacks without hitting at least one or two dead ends.

Tim Drake has posed:
    It's probably a credit to Bruce and his training more than anything else that Tim doesn't jump, though the look he throws over his shoulders is a touch owlish before he blinks and cracks a smile.

    "I have one, but I don't think it'll ever be a match for yours," he replies as he skims his fingers over a few more book spines before descending the ladder.

    Once his feet are on solid ground again, Tim's mouth twists as he stares up at the shelves surrounding them. "Yeah. Something I saw a few years ago." He shakes his head and walks over to retrieve his computer. As he folds it into a tablet, he taps at the screen, and then he holds it up.

    The picture displayed is from his mask HUD, of a pendant hanging against some sort of marble display. On the surface are a series of geometric engravings that make the circular pendant look vaguely like a Cubist impression of an eye.

    "Something like this, though it was an artist's rendition. I want to say dating back to pre-Renaissance era, but that's just a guess." Tim looks at the image himself, and then he frowns. "I don't remember the book title or author... I think it might have just been open to the page and I glanced at it." He gestures expansively at the room and then shrugs one shoulder, lightly, though the developing furrow between his eyebrows shows he's at least mildly frustrated by what is effectively a needle in a haystack.

    Which honestly doesn't even do the Wayne Manor library justice.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"This isn't the full collection," Bruce answers, waving a hand around, "We cycle a portion of them out to history museums across the country. The same with the artworks in the gallery. Might be that your book isn't here at the moment, but Alfred could check the register and let you know where it is."

He moves towards the computer and cranes his head to look at the picture on the screen, brow furrowed thoughtfully for a moment.

"Traditions of the Volcae Arecomici," he suggests, standing up to trail his fingers along the spines of the books before pulling one from the shelf, "Sheldon Piper."

He flicks through the pages for a moment before laying it out on the desk for Tim.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim lets all the air leak out of his lungs slowly. That the book he barely remembers might not even be here is a complication on top of the very large problem already facing him, and he cranes his neck to sweep his gaze across the library.

    But then his attention snaps back downwards. "The Arecomici were native to southern France," he says, with the kind of considering tone that suggests this is somehow significant, and he won't pretend he isn't holding his breath as Bruce approaches the shelves. In fact, he doesn't exhale until he looks down at the book set before him, and then it's to say "This is it!"

    The reproduced image is reminiscent of Gothic art found in block books from the 15th century, two peasants wielding farm tools having apparently just unearthed a rock from beneath the fields. Though the drawing is not particularly detailed, there are enough of the etchings on the stone to make it visually similar to the pendant still showing on the computer screen.

    It only takes a moment for Tim to read the text associated with the image, and he flips the pages back and forth as if he hopes more will reveal itself. But it doesn't. He drums his fingers against the desk. "I can work with this," he tells himself, underneath his breath. And then he looks up. "Thank you."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"I remember the case," Bruce adds, hands in his pockets as he looks over Tim's shoulder at the book, "Nygma, December 2017. Thought he was using old Gaulish iconography, but it turned out he was borrowing from Brittonic."

For a moment his brow furrows at the thought of Edward Nygma. The Riddler. Out of Arkham once again and building up to something else.

"More complex than what he's doing now. Simple substitution cypher that the Batcomputer cracked in nanoseconds."

He's simply musing now, it seems.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Even though he'd only glimpsed it at the time, seeing it before him again is enough to remind Tim of the circumstances he'd been exposed to the book in the first place. He slides his phone out of his pocket and holds it over the page as he takes several pictures, which begin to overlay the image of the pendant on his computer screen with each tap of his thumb.

    "It feels a little too easy." Tim starts to skim through the book, perhaps in the hopes of finding more related information. "For Nygma, I mean. You said it yourself, his plans are usually more complex--why the regression?"

    There's nothing else for Tim to find in the text, so he closes it and returns it to its place on the shelf. Though the first thing he does when he takes a seat at the computer is pull up the ISBN listing for it and leave that in an open tab. "Copycat or psychological trick?" is what he says next as he types, mildly distracted by the rapid-fire series of internet searches he begins.

    As Tim scrolls through the results, he rests his chin against his fist.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"It's a trap," Bruce answers flatly, "He wanted you to solve it. Nygma's more cryptic clues are his efforts to make me give up or 'cheat'. When they're simple, it's because he's laying a trail of breadcrumbs. Whatever his plan, you, Barbara, Stephanie - maybe even Harper Row - you're meant to follow it. It fell together too easily to mean anything else."

"There's no shortage of Riddler copycats. They don't share the same drive as Nygma, they mostly do it for the thrill or the theatricality. But this was Nygma. I ran tests on the blood and tissue samples Stephanie acquired - trace amounts only, but his DNA is on the crime scene. That was likely intentional, too. If there's anything he hates more than me, it's the copycats."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim's somehow managed to open at least two dozen tabs in the time since he's sat down, though he turns away from the screen to look up at Bruce. "Of course. I feel like I should be offended," he answers, and then he rolls his eyes. "Does he really think we're that stupid? None of us that were on the scene that night are new to this, Harper Row aside."

    Speaking of. "I ran into her during one of my investigations. She's smart."

    He clicks over to a new tab that lists search results in French, and he leans in a little as he reads. "So it's Nygma, and his end game is, what? Use us to get to you?" Tim's eyes remain glued to a passage of text on the screen, though he's not actually reading it. Instead, his gaze is unfocused. "Maybe he expects us to figure out it's a trap."

    As he says that, Tim leans back and steeples his hands against the lower half of his face, eyes narrowed. "Am I considering that because it's a legitimate possibility, or because I'm bothered by the possibility that he thinks we'd actually fall for it," he thinks aloud.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Don't encourage her," says Bruce of Harper Row, frowning slightly and with a sharper tone than normal, "She's smart, but she's lucky. If you run into her again, you owe it to her to talk her out of this. She doesn't have the training. A few martial arts classes don't make her bulletproof."

There's a pause as Bruce folds his hands behind his back, looking up at the portrait of some ancient Wayne Family scion frowning back down at them.

"He doesn't think you'll be fooled. He's arrogant, but he's not stupid. He knows that stepping into the trap is the only way to see what's coming next."

He shakes his head, taking a few steps towards the door: "Nygma's end game is what we need to work out. I need to work out. You've got your own case here and you need to focus."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "You probably said the same thing about me." Tim's voice has lifted to be purposefully light just to contrast Bruce's own change in tone. He doesn't look up from his computer. "You know, when I showed up and stuck my nose where it didn't belong."

    Back to typing. Under his breath, he adds, "And I don't exactly have the best track record for talking people out of things."

    When Bruce begins to move away, though, Tim stops what he's doing, and turns around in the chair to look. He pulls his legs up into a fold and manages a faintly amused smile as he says, "I haven't been the bait in a while. Pretty sure I remember how it goes, though, if we want to spring his trap early. Might put him on uneven footing." Even if the slight tip of his head seems to acknowledge his own doubts in that regard.

    He waves a hand dismissively towards his computer. "It's fine. I'm not the only one working this, and I can multitask."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The other things Tim has to say are heard, but not responded to. That's always been Bruce's way. He doesn't use more words than is necessary. It's especially true when he's in costume, but it flows over into moments like this all too often. He pauses at the door for a moment, hand resting on the frame with his back to the library.

"I did," he answers, when Tim speaks of his early days as the self-appointed Robin.

That gives him something to think about.

Then he's gone. He doesn't so much as step out into the hallways as he does disappear the moment Tim looks away.

Tim Drake has posed:
    It happens when Tim looks back at his computer long enough to swipe away a notification that pops up. When his head turns back around, he sighs and thumps his chin against his fist. "Some day I'll get the hang of that," he tells himself.