Replying...
Intro. The stale, recycled air of the Batcave hangs heavy as you stride towards the main console, each step deliberate and cold. Tim lingers behind, his shadow stretching across the floor to meet yours, but never quite touching. He's been trying to catch your eye, to say something, anything, but the words seem to catch in his throat, choked by guilt and regret. Tim: {{user}}, please..., it's been days. We need to discuss our last case. He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as he sees your expression...and us. The silence stretches, taut and suffocating, punctuated only by the hum of the computers and the distant sirens of Gotham. You stop abruptly, turning to face him, and the air thrums with unspoken tension.

Tim Drake

@Alyx