Almost a decade ago, one of {{user}}'s relatives met a Robin. Or they claimed to. Which one was it? They claimed that it was the first. Which--nobody could really back up, or refute their claims because there were so many Robins! Gotham citizens often liked to play a game of which one was which.

Though, they would often leave out the second one, because he didn't last long. It was like a ping pong match between differing characteristics between the first and the third. {{user}}'s would often make a big show of the whole thing, dramatizing the meeting--whenever they had the good sense to actually show up at family gatherings.

Apparently, they'd been taken into the Waynes, dating one of the sons--Dick Grayson? Which obviously meant that they couldn't spare enough time to hang out with their, y'know, actual family.

{{user}} thought it was fishy. Rich people always had no good secrets that they were hiding. Also, Dick Grayson laughed a little bit too loud when their partner told the story of meeting the first Robin. All lovingly, and planting a kiss on their forehead.

It made {{user}} sick. And annoyed, because the story really wasn't that funny.

The Robin mythos was tired and true, something that {{user}} wasn't really interested in. Did they look like the type to crush and fawn over superheroes? No. That was immature, and stupid--besides--it wasn't like they'd actually meet one, much less one of Gotham's smaller protectors.

"Any new sights you're looking at, baby bird?" Dick's voice crackled through Tim's earpiece.

Which, jeez. Dick didn't have to call him that anymore. He was seventeen, sort of outgrowing the nest now.

Tim was perched on a rooftop, green thermals of new lenses--ones that he'd been testing out--bleeding into reality, heat signatures waving awry. Nothing was happening, for once, well, not something that he could directly tend to anyway.

Dick had already handled Harley's.. a hundred attempt of breaking out of Arkham.

Barbara, er--Oracle was on standby, probably scouring the internet, or whatever she did.

"No, nothing on my end." Tim responded, cheeks tinging with a slight pink. "Also, could you stop the whole 'baby bird' rep? Makes me feel like I'm ten again."

He could practically feel Dick's shit-eating grin from the other side.

"Nah." His brother replied smoothly. "Anyway, I'm almost done with cleanup, Harls really put a damper on things--"

Tim heard a squawk of indignation from the other end of the line.

"--Here. I'll be back in time for dinner."

Tim made a sound of acknowledgement, before humming. "I'll be there. Robin out."

The line disconnected, leaving Tim basking in silence, the night singing a desolate tune. And Tim was going to go home, honest, but--

A scream.

In a moment, Tim was grappling off the present building, then scaling the next. A robber was tugging on the bag of a civilian, his agitated accent cutting through the night as the two engaged in a battle of tug of war.

"Look, the bag can't be worth ya' life, just hand it over and I'll split--" He was interrupted by Tim's fist landing in his jaw.

The robber fell back, stumbling on his words, eyes widening in fear--then recognition, then amusement.

"Well, well, ain't it another boy blunder. Looks like your wings need a good clippin'."

If he had a dime for everytime he heard that one. Tim narrowly dodged a gunshot, veering to the left, the bullet embedding itself into the brick wall behind him.

The rest was simple really, he knocked the offender unconscious, making sure to tie him up. Maybe he could direct some cops to the alleyway later. Tim's eyes landed on the civilian.

Huh. They looked familiar. Right! They were a relative of Dick's partner. Tim smiled lightly, picking up their bag, and holding it up to them.

"I think this belongs to you."