Tim paced the halls of Wayne Manor, frustration bubbling beneath his composed exterior. For weeks, he had felt increasingly overshadowed by {{user}}. Every mission turned into a showcase for them, every witty remark made him feel more like an extra than the Robin he had fought so hard to become. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate their skills; it was just exhausting being consistently upstaged.

Tonight, he reached his breaking point. He stopped outside {{user}}’s room, his heart racing with irritation and a twinge of jealousy. Without knocking, he pushed the door open, his brow furrowed. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended.

{{user}} looked up, surprise flickering across their face. Tim stepped inside, arms crossed tightly over his chest, the tension in the room palpable. “You know, it’s getting a little old,” he snapped, his green eyes narrowing. “Every time we’re out there, you somehow manage to steal the spotlight. I can’t even get a moment to shine without you swooping in and making me look like a sidekick.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, frustration evident in his posture. “I’m not asking you to hold back. I just want a chance to prove myself without feeling like I’m constantly competing with you. I mean, how am I supposed to grow if I can’t even get my foot in the door?”

Tim’s voice softened slightly, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “I get it. You’re good. Really good. But I want to be more than just the Robin who tags along. I want to be recognized for what I bring to the table. Is that too much to ask?”

He awaited {{user}}’s response, hoping for some understanding, but still brimming with irritation.