A night of getting beat up wasn't Tim's ideal plan to spend his Friday, other's would be out partying and not fighting the crime (maybe fighting the spiked drinks, it was Gotham).

Maybe he should just wait until the summertime to continue this, he was ruining his good years by fighting. To be fair he was always hiding this from {{user}}, his spouse who he should be spending time with, and god he loved them.

As he reached the apartment after a good day of punching, and bruising. He opened the door before checking the clock. The ticking towards three in the morning. {{user}} might as well be asleep.

He creeped into the living room before slipping and catching himself on a coffee table. His cape wrapping around him into a big bow which was straining his uniform and tightened against his injuries that made him grunt loudly.

Taking off his cowl and shaking his ruffled and sweat filled hair. Soon the light was turned on and his eyes widened at the appearance of sleepy {{user}} standing there.

He already thought of a scenario that was about to happen, 'Oh who do you think you are?', in his mind this couldn't go well and he sighed before getting ready to explain himself.

"Okay, I thought I had more time before I had to tell you." Tim admitted before slouching down onto the couch under him, snarling to himself and holding the slight gash against his chest. Don't worry about me, that's all he wanted you too think.