7787/Tim Doesn't Actually Know Everything

Tim Doesn't Actually Know Everything
Date of Scene:	11 September 2021
Location:	Level 4 - Kitchen and Dining - The Roost
Synopsis:	Conner and M'gann get an update about an ongoing investigation from Tim-the-Outsiders-team-leader, and then Conner and Tim-the-person-behind-the-mask have a long talk.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Conner Kent, M'gann M'orzz

---

Tim Drake has posed:
    If the the robin is at home in the Roost, then it's usually pretty easy to locate him. Tim has the kind of set pathing that an NPC in a video game might have, haunting the training room for a very precise amount of time in the early afternoon, at his computer in the labs almost exclusively otherwise. His actual apartment at the front of the building goes mostly unused. And does he even sleep?

    Well, yes. More often than not on the couch wedged against one wall of the labs. Especially now that the Outsiders' resident white mage isn't around to bug him about being healthy.

    Phoebe's absence is also why Tim is now standing in the kitchen, at the coffee maker, glaring at it with a fairly impressive approximation of Batman's scowl as if that will someone intimidate the machine to work faster. Unfortunately, it does not. No one to monitor his caffeine intake. He tips his head back and sighs in a way that is thoroughly overdramatic, before he pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his hoodie, and hops up onto the counter behind him.

Conner Kent has posed:
"Man, did you sleep tonight?" Maybe Tim forgot he has other friends to bug him about his unhealthy habits. Not that Conner used to do that when... well, actually he didn't do that because Tim used to sleep more when they were younger.

Or maybe Conner wasn't paying attention. Probably both.

"It is not too late to sleep, you know? Being a Saturday. I am sure most of Gotham super-criminals are late risers." Conner himself has not slept tonight, but he has the unfair advantage of being half-Kryptonian and he sleeps about half a normal human. On the flip side, coffee does nothing for him, which is why he is going to the fridge for a soda.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann doesn't really sleep. Every few days she might need to meditate for awhile but Martian biology is really quite unfair. Though not sleeping can come with its own hazards, such as boredom. Boredom that is often solved with things like cooking and sometimes overcooking. Luckily for the Roost's pantry though that doesn't seem to be the case this evening.

"Hi Tim! Hi Conner!" The green skinned redhead smiles as she steps through the wall and into the kitchen. Doors seem kind of lost on the Martian unless she is actually making an effort to pass as human. "Oh, is it coffee time?" She asks looking between Tim, Conner, and the machine. Coffee doesn't do anything for her in terms of chemically induced energy boosts, but she does enjoy the taste of it.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "What's 'sleep'?" Tim asks, because there's another way he's changed since they were teens: he's developed a sense of humor. Well, he had one back then too, but usually he was too busy trying to be as serious and professional as possible that it never really showed. He sends whatever text or email he's been typing out on his phone, the corners of his lips twitching in a repressed smile as he looks down at it, and then he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

    His hands fold against his knees, bare below the hem of his shorts, and across on the other counter, the coffee machine goes hssssssghghgrrrrbbbblllll. Tim stares out it, mouth open. "Did someone break it?" he asks, voice climbing up an octave in mildly hysterical concern.

    Given that it's dispensing gritty goop into his mug rather than delicious, delicious bean juice... yeah, probably.

    Tim allows himself a brief moment to contemplate the cruelty of fate, and then slips back off the counter, tossing a "Hey, M'gann," over his shoulder as he goes. Then Tim glumly reports, "In fact it is not coffee time," as he turns off and unplugs the machine, then takes his slurry-infested mug to the sink to rinse.

    "I'm on a case. Cult activity in Gotham. Not sure if an Outsiders-level threat yet, but they've definitely got something planned."

Conner Kent has posed:
Conner starts as ghost-Megan appears. Yes, Martian biology is totally unfair when it makes him drop the soda. But he catches the can before it hits the floor. "Hi, Megan," he mutters grumpily.

"I didn't do it," he says when Tim points out he coffee machine is broken. And it is true this time, as Conner won't touch coffee with a ten foot pole. Way too bitter. "We have a Starbuck two blocks away but..." he checks the digital display on the fridge. "Not open for another hour." Beat. "What about cult activity? One of the crazies has gone into religion or is this a... tourist?"

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"Oh no." M'gann makes a concerned face at the news that there is no coffee time due to the machine's 'difficulties'. She's not so much concerned for herself as what this will do to Tim. "I could try to remove your fatigue via telepathy?" She offers, not that anyone usually takes a Martian up on poking into their brain.

M'gann smiles at Conner, seemingly confused by his grumpiness. Sometimes she can be kind of oblivious. "What kind of cult?" She asks curiously.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Sludge rinsed out, mug scrubbed and left drying on the rack next to the sink, Tim makes his way past Conner and into the fridge for a soda. "It's fine," he says, because even though this feels a little bit like a personal attack, things get broken around the Roost often enough. The consequences of housing a bunch of superpowered teens and young adults.

    Hey, at least they haven't had any monster attacks, lately!

    Tim immediately experiences a wave of guilt and anxiety just thinking that. He doesn't believe in phenomenons like luck or fate, mostly, but he's also not the type to just invite Gotham to do its worst like that, either.

    "I'm not that bad off yet," he tells M'gann, over the crack-hiss of him opening his soda. Then he takes a drink and makes a face. So much sugar. "I don't think they're local." He leans back against the counter he was previously sitting on. The smart watch on his wrist vibrates, and he glances down at it before swiping away the notification. "Not strictly local, at least. The origins of the cult trace back to Pre-Celtic Europe in what's now modern-day France, but for what little I'm able to find on them, they seem to have adopted a worldwide presence since the Industrial Revolution."

    He takes another sip, and this time around the sweetness isn't too bad. "They call themselves the Church of the Broken God," Tim adds.

Conner Kent has posed:
It is amazing that the Roost is still a secret super-team HQ after a year of having a dozen super-powered teens coming and going. They have really taking the Outsiders seriously, even Bart and Conner. 'So, far no monster attacks' is quite the achievement. Then again, Tim had to say it out loud. Now it is going to happen for sure.

Church of the Broken God doesn't ring a bell. And Conner is almost a dedicated at following the good/bad guys careers as Robin (don't call him a fanboy, he is going to be a reporter, damnit!).

"Hmm, you tell us if you need some heavy lifting, okay?" He states, then he offers M'gann a soda too. So she is not left out. Besides, he doesn't like to see her confused despite her bad ghost habits. "How have things being otherwise? We got not time to talk during the Karaoke thing, I really didn't expect Laura and Gabby to come up with... well, it was revealing and a little depressing."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann drifts towards a chair and has a seat. Tim's refusal of psychic assistance was expected, humans have the weirdest hangups about mind to mind contact. "Okay, just thought I would offer."

She happily accepts the soda from Connar and pops it open with a hissing fizzy sound. "Thank you, Connar." She gives him a bright smile.

"Why would they revere a broken god?" M'gann asks completely seriously. "Aren't gods revered due to their power? A broken god does not seem like they would be very helpful..."

Tim Drake has posed:
    By the time M'gann's taken a seat, Tim has once again resumed his perch on the counter, legs dangling over the edge. He sets his soda down and dries a couple drops of condensation off on his shorts. "Will do. Right now we don't quite know what they're planning, but my gut is telling me it's going to be bad. Still, they're incredibly good at hiding their tracks."

    He tucks his hands into his hoodie pockets. "It's hard to pin down their beliefs. They have some sort of information exchange system on the internet, but so far none of our attempts to crack it have worked. But as far as I can tell, they think their god fell to Earth at some point in the far past, and an artifact that was uncovered near the beginning of the millenium was part of it," he explains. Then, Tim adds, "They think it was one of its eyes."

    Tim's eyes narrow in consideration as he stares into the middle distance, but Conner's question brings him back. "Oh!" he says, and then his shoulders hunch up. "Um. Great. I mean, things are good! Really good." Tim bites the inside of his cheek. "How about you? I feel like aside for missions, the team hardly sees each other. Or maybe I'm just locked up in my computer lab and miss everyone."

Conner Kent has posed:
"The second, I am here most weekends," points out Conner with a smirk. He looks doubtful about the 'things are good' bit because in Gotham things are never good. At most are 'not bad' and even that is rare.

"So... we are actually talking about a bunch of religious nuts with an alien eye that is probably a super-tech device," beat, "which will not really explode in their faces and turn them into zombie werewolves, because those things never happen."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann listens to Tim's explanation while sipping from her soda, the effect the fizzy bubbles have on the inside of her mouth is a rather pleasant sensation. "If you manage to capture one of these cultists, I could extract the means to crack the code from their mind." She says pretty matter of factly for something at least mildly horrifying to most of Earth's inhabitants.

There is a pause before she concurs with Conner. "You really could spend some more time in the common space rather than always holed up with your lab computer. Problems don't wait but solving them together is what teams are for. Also parties, those are really fun." She grins.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim has enough good sense to look abashed at that. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm trying to improve my work-life balance, it's just..." He looks down at the floor. "Not easy for me to let things go. Gabby's said something similar, M'gann. Maybe we should get the team together for more regular meetings."

    And then he pulls a hand out of his pocket to point at Conner. Specifically, at his face. "I saw that. I'm serious, things are good for me. Really," he says, and he sounds pretty insistent about it.

    "I'll start hanging around more often," he adds, and Tim's mouth twists, regretfully. It's almost visible on his face, the way the gears of his mind are turning, trying to make adjustments to his schedule to accomodate. "Phoebe's encountered them, and as far as she could tell with her magic, they're no longer living. But if we can capture one, it'd be good if you could scan them just in case."

Conner Kent has posed:
Conner arches an eyebrow, somewhat sceptical. "Well, I am doing well myself. College is going and... eh, all normal. I am not going to talk about boring courses, prickly teachers and girls that won't pick up the phone." That is so mundane Conner can barely take it seriously. Which is good, really. He needed a break from being Superboy 100% of the time. It was a trap he can see Robin falling slowly.

"Well, and there are parties, which as Megan has discovered, they are really fun," adds Conner. "Not your tux and tie high-class parties, Tim. Those are okay, but not the really good kind of party."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann nods her head a few times. "If you can capture one alive, learning all that they know would only be a matter of time." Though she then gestures and turns towards Connar as if to non-verbally express 'what he said'. "We could have movie night or taco tuesdays, I have heard good things about this practice, or something with cake! I can make a cake!" Yes, the fun kind of parties.

Amidst her excitement she pauses for a moment and looks up before looking back towards Conner and Tim, "I will be right back, the BioShip requires my help." And with one last smile, she floats up through the ceiling, ascending towards the roof. Bad ghost habit indeed.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "You can talk about it if you want. The normal, boring stuff is just as much a part of life as punching bad guys," Tim points out, and the way he leans forward makes it seem like he's about to launch into what is going to be a very hypocritical Talk about having a social life, but M'gann distracts him from it.

    He nods. "Will do, for whatever version of 'alive' they seem to be," he says, and then adds, "Okay. Talk to you later!" Annnnd up she goes.

    For a moment or two, Tim blinks up at the ceiling, and then hums something noncommittal as he takes a sip of soda. Now that his tastebuds have acclimated, he doesn't mind it. "Believe it or not I don't actually like the tux and tie high-class parties. Those are just part of my social responsibilities as a Wayne." Tim's eyes roll, a little. "Anyway. How are you, really? What happened during karaoke night was, uh... maybe a bit upsetting?" His eyebrows pull together, and he frowns.

Conner Kent has posed:
"I know. And to be honest I have met some very interesting people in your parties," which Tim doesn't like but goes because 'responsibilities'? That sounds evil. Uhm, changing tracks.

"Heh. Those songs reminded me how messed up the Kinney sisters are," not him, though, he is super-perfectly adapted to being a real boy. "And it is not easy to reach them. Laura is aloof as hell, and Gabby is hyper and childish. But they are not fine and..." he pauses to listen. But he can't hear their heartbeats so he is going to assume the girls are not in the building or at least too far to listen to what he is saying. "I don't know what to do. I don't know if they need counselling or just some good friends. At least Laura seems to be developing a sense of humor, or at least sarcasm. That is probably good."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim's eyebrows begin to creep up towards his hairline. "Uh huh," he says, with a tone of voice that clearly communicates his skepticism about Conner's unspoken insinuation that he's well-adjusted while the Kinney sisters are not.

    He starts to tuck one of his legs underneath himself, then realizes he's still sitting on the counter, so he hops down. Not that the counter is for sitting on, anyway, but Tim has limits on misusing the surfaces where people make food. "I don't think there's much we can do beyond hope their school offers them some kind of help in that regard," he says. "It's not like the superhero community is any more aware of the need for mental health support than... you know, the rest of society." He tips his head back and sighs, eyes closing for a brief moment.

    "And we're not therapists. We can be their friends, but there's no magic fix for these kinds of issues, and we all have enough of our own to deal with, without trying to take on anyone else's, either." He looks over at Conner. "I know you have, uh... certain life experiences in common with them, Kon, but that doesn't mean you're solely responsible for them. The team's a team for a reason, we should *all* be relying on each other."

    A second or two passes before Tim adds: "I know how hypocritical I'm sounding right now."

Conner Kent has posed:
Conner sips from his soda, thoughtful. "You know, when I saw Laura the first time I thought... man, she is beautiful. But after the first ten minutes chatting with her I realized that I needed to approach her in a different way than any other girl I have ever met," and he has met alien women and weirder. "She needed and still needs to get rid of pretty much all the horrendous misconceptions and conditioning those Facility assholes forced on her. She still approaches life as if it was a battlefield. Which is fine when going to a battlefield, but extremely bad all the rest of the time."

And really, being part of a super-hero team? Probably not helping. Or maybe helping because it puts her in situations she can use her skills? Yeah, they are not therapists. But Conner is not sure there are therapists able to deal with clones with super-powers anyway.

It is going to be them or no one. "I am not sure I have a lot of common life experiences with them, to be honest. They seem to have gotten much worse. I just... I guess I think about it more because it hits closer home."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "I know. There are people who study for years just so they can help people with similar issues. Veterans, abuse survivors, victims of kidnapping and brainwashing. We have the unfortunate complication of secret identities and people who would be put in danger if we were to expose our histories like that, so." Tim pauses, and his head ducks down as he stares at the floor, like he needs a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's just..."

    He sighs. "If we try to help, we run the risk of doing more damage. None of us have that kind of training. There are plenty of doctors out there that run secret back door clinics for superheroes, but have you ever heard of one offering counseling services?"

    Herein Tim is confronted with a problem that is too large for him to solve. The frustrated set of his brow is enough to give that much away, and he obviously doesn't like it. "Look, I've gotten a lot of advice from a lot of people, recently, and I'm trying to listen. I can't be everything for everyone, and the same goes for you. Just be their friend." His shoulders bunch up before dropping. "Even if that doesn't sound like much, look how different we are now compared to when we first met. We've both changed. That's worth something."

Conner Kent has posed:
"Well, we were about fifteen when we started," points out Conner with a small grin. They have changed a lot if five years because that is the age people actually can change quickly.

Was Harley Quinn offering counselling for supers? He remembers to have seen that in some social media. Hopefully, fake news.

"I know can't do everything and I can't save everyone," confirms Conner. He learned that lesson when he saw Tana Moon die. "But as I said, this hits close home, and I think I could do more."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim's head tips to the side to acknowledge the point. "Sure. But I'd probably still be really uptight if we all hadn't met," he replies. And then he holds both hands up, palms out. "Before you say anything, I'm working on it!"

    He bites the inside of his cheek again, but that doesn't quite stop the grin from trying to spread across his face in response to Conner's own. Things may be pretty grimdark in Gotham most of the time, but that wasn't the case when they were teens, running around getting into trouble.

    "That's good. None of us should put that kind of pressure on ourselves." Guilty as charged, there, and once again Tim has to acknowledge his hypocrisy, though this time it's just internally. "Well, if you want to do more... I should too. Tag me in for whatever plans you come up with, alright?" He peers at Conner and adds, "So long as you don't get us all into too much trouble." And then, yeah, Tim does grin properly.

Conner Kent has posed:
Uptight? Conner opens mouth. Then Tim acknowledges it is a work on progress. "Alright". He sips more soda. "But I'll make no promises," he replies about the trouble part. "That aside... have you heard anything about Rose? She dropped by for minute and now she is missing again," he complains. Old issues. Rose will do that all the time.

"Also, I am getting some signals from Hope," he murmuts. "Maybe we should try again? Or I am imagining things? She is always busy with the mutant problems, not responding texts or anything, and then some odd days she just drop by and wants to spend time with me."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim's nose wrinkles as he huffs out a breath through it. It's *nearly* a snort of laughter. He finishes off his soda and crushes the can between the counter and the heel of his palm with only a slight amount of difficulty, before overhand tosses it into the recycle bin. "No. She and I don't exactly talk any more," he says, and then shrugs. "You probably know more than me, at this point."

    He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. Something uncertain flashes across his expression before it's gone just as quick. "I don't know if I'm the best person to ask," he answers, carefully. "Given, uh, my track record. But, I mean, you could try asking her? Apparently there's this thing called communication that's supposed to be really helpful in relationships." His eyes go a little wide and he shakes his head, as if he's not quite sure about any of it. As a joke. See, not uptight!!!

Conner Kent has posed:
"Oh no," Conner waves vaguely with his free hand. "Communication only works when you are talking in the same language than the other side. And that is the big problem, they have a different language. It just uses some of the same words."

No need to explain who 'they' are, right?

"It takes a lot of guess work," he mutters. "You are a detective, you should be good at this. Enhanced senses do not help."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim opens his mouth to say something, and then just wheezes out a breath instead. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Yeah, uh-huh," he says, even though his tone makes it obvious he doesn't actually agree. Then he looks away, hair falling over his forehead with the motion.

    "Sure, but it's been pointed out to me that there are certain areas that I am completely blind on. Maybe as a form of willful ignorance, but... look. Just... if being with her makes you happy? Go for it." Tim pauses. "I can't believe I'm giving this exact same talk again. I don't know why any of you think I'm good at this." He blows out a breath and shakes his head again. "We can't predict what's going to happen tomorrow. It seems like there's some big world-ending threat every other week, and while I'm not going to sit here and angst about that, I'm also not going to put my life on hold anymore because I'm doubting myself, or depriving myself for the sake of the mission. So. Next time you see her, ask her."

Conner Kent has posed:
"Eh? It is just we are used to you knowing everything," points out Conner with a wicked grin," besides, Tim asked about how was he doing. Did he expect Conner not to talk about women? He should know better!

Conner finishes his soda and tosses it into the recycling bit. "Well, it is dawning for real. If you don't want to sleep, I guess Starbucks should be open. I am going to fly to Metro for an errand or two, but I will be back for lunch. Maybe we can use your theatre to watch a movie in the big screen later? There are still a lot of Hitchcock and Orson Wells movies I want to see."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "I regret to inform you that I do not, in fact, know everything," Tim deadpans. He checks his watch, and frowns in a thoughtful sort of way. "Yeah, I need to go get something. Not from Starbucks, though, their coffee is garbage." Occasionally, Tim does show himself as having expensive tastes. He side-eyes the broken coffee maker before he takes out his phone.

    He's staring at it as he navigates around the counter, towards the elevator. "I need to order another coffee machine--sure. Have you seen Rear Window yet? That one's my favorite. Shadow of a Doubt is great, too." Then Tim spins on his heel, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but reconsiders. His eyes drop back down to his phone. "Text me. I'll be around." He taps the control panel next to the elevator doors to call it up.