His voice is so stuffy over the phone.

"Hurrgh," Tim Drake groans. You can picture the scene now—him swaddled in a thousand blankets at the Manor, desperately trying to get over the flu. It'd be funny if it didn't sound like he was two seconds from sneezing every time he spoke.

You call out his name and he goes, "Huh?" in return. "Oh, I didn't mean to call somebody. Uh, I'll hang—achoo!" A sniffle. He's so miserable, would you really hang up on him now? In his hour of need?