Tim Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brentwood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
brentwood) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
Entry tags:
01 (mingling can't be avoided - open
Who| The littlest Tim and whoever's around!
What| Arrival and curiosity.
Where| District 12 Suites, Central Commons.
When| The day of his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Nope, none that I can think of!
It's one thing to be kidnapped-- another thing entirely to be told what he had. What an honor, what a privilege, isn't this exciting? And no, no it wasn't a bit. It had taken an immense effort to keep from decking anyone at all who was too peppy, too clean, too bubbly. Too helpful. Now herded into his suite (and whoa, not going to lie, it's a pretty sweet room), Tim finds himself pining for Alfred instead of these silent people who offer sweets and luxuries. Then he corrects himself- tells himself that even thinking such a thing might jinx this entire situation somehow and actually bring Alfred to this city. This world. Because there's no way an operation like this could go undetected by the heavy hitters back home.
There's a heavy crease in his brow, looking a little silly on a 15 year old boy. It's not until Tim steps into the bathroom (even that's way high class) that he spots himself on a mirror and notices he's downright scowling. He splashes water on his face. Tells himself to calm down, to do what he's been trained to do. Sleuth. As much as he'd like to hit something, there'd just be no point when he doesn't know how heavy the consequences will be. If everything's been running so smoothly for 70-something rounds of Death Match... it's for a reason.
Besides.
This might all be a bad dream.
He sits on the bed. Gets to work with familiarizing himself with the communication device he was so generously given. He'll bet anything in the world it's bugged.
(Floor 12)
Every adventure draws to an end, even one that had taken so little movement as his assessment of the communicator had. There's an unease with being cooped up in a strange room. A stirring that came from disorientation. Now, the sane thing would be to let the nerves settle before stepping out. He's sure he remembers how to access the concrete den he had been in before, but there's no need for that now. Turning the knob and opening the door to peek his head out, Tim makes sure to don the face of some lost kid rather than an angry one. He's even meticulously quiet about making sure the click of the closing door behind him doesn't sound louder than it needs to, and he cringes a little when he hears it anyway.
Not that he's playing a spy game with himself or anything but. But he's being obviously sneaky. He has to remind himself he's just a schoolboy, and as much as he has an urge to venture down the elevators, it's best to familiarize himself with the most immediate surroundings. It's just a very lavish hotel. That makes his skin crawl. Rounding the corners is particularly suspenseful.
(Central Commons)
Now, if the suites were eerie, the common room is just bizarre. There's the architecture and commodities just screaming for an atmosphere of relaxation. The televisions and lighting are spectacular. The chairs and couches look comfortable and inviting. The whole... mood of the place whispers playground, not slaughter. And Tim supposes that's what has him standing there, just freshly off the elevator, with a shiver running down his spine. Either he's being fantastically duped, or he really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
And that's terrifying all on its own.
So should he be expecting a bear to burst out of the elevator doors behind him? --Tim takes no time to step away. He even looks over his shoulder once or twice once he's moved himself more towards the center of the place without quite realizing it. Okay, Drake. Focus. It's time to make some friends. Step One: Find someone who doesn't look like they want to kill you. Should be easy, right?
What| Arrival and curiosity.
Where| District 12 Suites, Central Commons.
When| The day of his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Nope, none that I can think of!
It's one thing to be kidnapped-- another thing entirely to be told what he had. What an honor, what a privilege, isn't this exciting? And no, no it wasn't a bit. It had taken an immense effort to keep from decking anyone at all who was too peppy, too clean, too bubbly. Too helpful. Now herded into his suite (and whoa, not going to lie, it's a pretty sweet room), Tim finds himself pining for Alfred instead of these silent people who offer sweets and luxuries. Then he corrects himself- tells himself that even thinking such a thing might jinx this entire situation somehow and actually bring Alfred to this city. This world. Because there's no way an operation like this could go undetected by the heavy hitters back home.
There's a heavy crease in his brow, looking a little silly on a 15 year old boy. It's not until Tim steps into the bathroom (even that's way high class) that he spots himself on a mirror and notices he's downright scowling. He splashes water on his face. Tells himself to calm down, to do what he's been trained to do. Sleuth. As much as he'd like to hit something, there'd just be no point when he doesn't know how heavy the consequences will be. If everything's been running so smoothly for 70-something rounds of Death Match... it's for a reason.
Besides.
This might all be a bad dream.
He sits on the bed. Gets to work with familiarizing himself with the communication device he was so generously given. He'll bet anything in the world it's bugged.
(Floor 12)
Every adventure draws to an end, even one that had taken so little movement as his assessment of the communicator had. There's an unease with being cooped up in a strange room. A stirring that came from disorientation. Now, the sane thing would be to let the nerves settle before stepping out. He's sure he remembers how to access the concrete den he had been in before, but there's no need for that now. Turning the knob and opening the door to peek his head out, Tim makes sure to don the face of some lost kid rather than an angry one. He's even meticulously quiet about making sure the click of the closing door behind him doesn't sound louder than it needs to, and he cringes a little when he hears it anyway.
Not that he's playing a spy game with himself or anything but. But he's being obviously sneaky. He has to remind himself he's just a schoolboy, and as much as he has an urge to venture down the elevators, it's best to familiarize himself with the most immediate surroundings. It's just a very lavish hotel. That makes his skin crawl. Rounding the corners is particularly suspenseful.
(Central Commons)
Now, if the suites were eerie, the common room is just bizarre. There's the architecture and commodities just screaming for an atmosphere of relaxation. The televisions and lighting are spectacular. The chairs and couches look comfortable and inviting. The whole... mood of the place whispers playground, not slaughter. And Tim supposes that's what has him standing there, just freshly off the elevator, with a shiver running down his spine. Either he's being fantastically duped, or he really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
And that's terrifying all on its own.
So should he be expecting a bear to burst out of the elevator doors behind him? --Tim takes no time to step away. He even looks over his shoulder once or twice once he's moved himself more towards the center of the place without quite realizing it. Okay, Drake. Focus. It's time to make some friends. Step One: Find someone who doesn't look like they want to kill you. Should be easy, right?
no subject
"It's me, Stephanie. I can't...I mean." She straightens up and gives him a serious look. "Can I hug you? I just really want to hug you right now."
no subject
That Stephanie's the one giving him a serious look is almost enough to make him tumble back. Time travel. And that wouldn't be a big deal in and of itself (who's he trying to kid here), but this is... literally his future in front of him.
Wow, she looks good.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt anyone."
And if she's a robot that's planning on sticking a knife through his back, he's working out ways to get out of her grasp already. Steph's going to have to make the move, sorry about that, because Tim's off asking "How long have you been here? How'd you know my name?" Priorities.
no subject
She wonders if this means her Tim was gone or if this was some other crazy Capitol thing that she really didn't want to think about.
She briefly hopes that her Tim is gone because this could cause all sorts of troubles.
no subject
He doesn't, but he does let go and he regrets it a second later except maybe not really and maybe he shouldn't believe her and he looks like he's freaking out just a little bit but boy is he writhing inside.
"Uh."
Very eloquent, Wonder Bread.
"What do you mean?" By everything? That's... that's a lot of stuff. He wants to be swallowed by the carpet. He wants to blurt out, I would have told you but he never did, did he? It wasn't his fault. It was just how things went and now... Now he's making a bigger deal out of this than Steph is.
"When?" Why, how, who, where.
no subject
Finally she backs away, but keeps her hand on his arm as though he might vanish before she's ready to let him go.
"First, maybe, I should ask what's the last thing you remember. That Tim remembers." Because there is no Robin or Batgirl in this world.
no subject
Then he glances down at the floor, the ceiling, the side. There's some shame he didn't know he had to spare at the distinction between Robin and Tim. Suppose it's supposed to be second nature by now.
His voice is oddly small when he speaks up-- there's no... trembling or anything, but it's obvious that the reply isn't supposed to come out as the whisper that it is. "My dad called to say he's getting married." Because oh my god his dad is going to freak. "I'm at boarding school. That's why I have a stupid curfew and can't visit you as often anymore."
no subject
Stephanie let go of his arm to cross her arms not even realizing she was frowning. "That was years ago for me. I'm, ah, I'm 19 now." And Batgirl. And fake dating his older self that might not even be in the Capitol anymore. Suddenly her head hurt. "Um, I don't know how this whole time thing works, so I'm not sure what I can tell you." Her eyes rolled to look up at the ceiling. "A lot has changed, Timmy. A lot."
no subject
And no, he doesn't know how the time thing works either. It feels odd to think he knows as much as she does-- less, even. But he has enough sense to keep that tidbit to himself and avoid a mauling.
no subject
Three years was far too long.