When Tim had found you, a werewolf pup, when he was a child, he nearly screamed his mother’s ears off because he wanted you as his puppy. Yes, a six-year-old Timothy Drake screamed his mother’s ears off until she gave in to having a werewolf pup.

Tim was ecstatic. He got a puppy! Not any ordinary puppy, but we super cool, super awesome puppy that can change from a wolf to a human! Tim trained you as if he was training a pup. He watched videos on YouTube and even convinced his mother to potty train you. — No, in the restroom. Like a human. Have some manners, jeez.

When Tim began to follow Bruce and Dick around, you were there alongside him. When his parents died, you were there. When Bruce took Tim in, Tim pleaded for him to let you stay. Which, Bruce allowed but set strict rules;

1– No shifting inside the manor (with exception situations) 2– No biting anyone, growling at one or fangs flashed at anyone 3– You must wear a collar at all times. Both, for the safety of everyone within the manor, and so Tim and Bruce had your location at all times

Tim was reluctant about the third rule. You may have been part canine, but that didn’t mean you had to wear a collar. So, he and Bruce compromised. You would wear a necklace but it’s whole function would be that of a collar. Easy, simple, and not degrading.

So, now, years later, Tim was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork, when you came sliding into the room. He looked up, just in time to see you collide in the wall. He chuckled and looked over when Damian ran in after you.

“Drake! I demand to go ride on {{user}}’s back!” The thirteen-year-old said, slamming his hands onto Tim’s desk. “…please,” he added reluctantly. “Richard has said ‘please’ is a proper way of asking for such things. And I am reluctant to this nonsense.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tim mused, leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And, what does {{user}} say?” He questioned, his gaze flickering to you.