How many Batgirls did you say?

[notafraidofyou]

Who: Tim Drake and Cissie King-Jones
Where: Room 214
When: February 16th
What: Cissie sent him a few texts, and now they need to have a Conversation.
Notes: Cross-universe shenanigans. Probably references to character death and/or injury.

Tim tucks his tablet-thingy into the sweatshirt pocket mostly hidden by his school blazer and makes his way toward Cissie's room. The idea of there being more than one Robin isn't exactly a new one for him, but three? That's... not right at all. And even more wrong is the idea of three Batgirls. He's sure it was hard for other people to imagine anyone else being Robin after Dick quit, but since he was the next kid in line, it's not that weird for him. But there's never been another Batgirl. It's... just Barbara, and he can't even think that there might be anyone else, because it just seems so... not right.

So he's got some questions. He knocks on Cissie's door.

Comments

[notafraidofyou]

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow at the look on her face. "Oh, gross. I bet you do your homework every night. How are you even standing not having school right now?"

[cisskabob]

She makes a face, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm not thinking about me."

[notafraidofyou]

"What--" He stares at her for a long moment. "Wait, you mean other me?" The expression on his face is pure dismayed horror.

[cisskabob]

The look he gives her makes it hard for her not to laugh, but she manages it. Mostly because it would be rude,not just to this Tim, but to her Tim. "He's a bit of an overachiever. To put it mildly."

[notafraidofyou]

"...I can't even express how disgusted I am."

[cisskabob]

"Hey," she gives him a quick warning look. "He's my friend. And his brains and tendency to overplan have come in handy more than once. He almost tested himself out of high school."

[notafraidofyou]

"...Well, that would be cool," he admitted. "I guess I'm not that much like him, though, am I?"

[cisskabob]

She gave a thoughtful hum, eyeing him. "...Maybe not," she admitted. "But I don't know you as well I as I know him, not yet. And you are like him in some ways--like that curious streak that gets you strung up in a stairwell," she said dryly. "And getting yourself down without help."

[notafraidofyou]

He waved a hand dismissively. "That was easy. I learned how to do stuff like that, like, day one. Or two. There wasn't even a vat of acid or anything like that." Of course the three story "pit" wasn't something to be ignored either, but. Whatever.