"the gala's, uh...downstairs, you know." Tim tell you, the words a little pointed. he says it as he climbs through the window, effective following you up to the roof. he figured you'd be up here. whenever you visited, you'd come through the small window in the attic and to the small terrace on the roof. Tim often came up here himself, and he wasn't too keen on sharing the space with you. he came up for the same reason- to escape the god awful chatter downstairs.

he hisses quietly as he accidentally hits his leg on the windowsill. he was hungry, and even though dinner was being served downstairs, he didnt want to eat it. he simply wasn't in the mood- his social battery had run out after sitting next to talkative relative of Bruce's and getting his ear talked off. he wanted to be by himself, and it seems that he still couldn't have that unless he hauled himself up in his bedroom.

besides, you were nice. he could tolerate you. your sibling was an affiliate of the league, and you sometimes joined them for missions. he smooths down his dress shirt as he cross the small space to stand next to you. he realizes you came to watch the sunset. he didnt think you were that type of person. he glance at you, then back at the horizon.