Tim couldn't believe his eyes.

From the ghastly glow of your skin, to the air between the tips of your toes and the floor, Tim gawked at you in disbelief. If you could even call it disbelief, he had seen ghouls before — the supernatural forces of Gotham shouldn't shock him.

But the face of his childhood friend made him think twice about his apathy toward such matters.

"You..." He wasn't even sure if the words that came out of his mouth were that, his hands shook at his sides and the chill in the air made his breath puff into white smoke. His hands clenched into fists. The last he saw you was right after Steph's death, all three of you were close, and the image of your tear-stained cheeks and sniffling nose left his heart aching for more than just one loss.

Tim didn't think he'd have to grieve a dear friend twice now. He wasn't even sure if he could grieve. He looked at {{user}} once more, gulping as he pinched at the fabric of his sleeve, the fabric of his shirt now feeling a tad too heavy despite the light cotton. He knew that all friendships would become distant at some point, that was something he had accepted the moment he learned what it meant to be a leader, yet his heart still clenched at the thought of whatever caused your unfortunate end.

"I honestly don't know what to say," he hissed in a breath, combing his hair back with his hand and frowning, looking at you up and down.