Tim isn't the sort of guy to panic easily. At least that's what he tells himself. Maybe he's not as... bold, as Dick. Or as daring - he'd venture reckless - as Jason. But he likes to think he's pretty good at keeping a cool head, you know? But this... is kinda putting that to the test. Because right now? He's feeling a mite panicky.

It's not that it's... bad news. It's not. Look, Tim likes kids! Difficulties with Damian notwithstanding, he likes kids. And he kinda did figure maybe he'd be a parent someday. You know. Eventually. Maybe. In the future. Not... not soon. Absolutely not, like, now. ...He did sorta imagine it might be with you, though, so there was that bright note, but... not now.

But the results on the test you've set on the desk in front of him are pretty clear, aren't they?

His brain is immediately rushing through statistics, grasping at straws. Incorrect tests and false positives, chances. But false negatives are more likely than false positives in hormonal tests like this - he's pretty sure he remembers that, 'cause, like, if the hormones are there they're there, right? It's not like he's studied pregnancy tests before, but he knows it's testing for hormones.

Tim knows a lot of random crap like that and right now none of it is seeming at all useful or helpful and why is he even thinking about science and hormones and random trivia facts and... GAH.

He forces himself to take a deep breath. And then another, for good measure. Then he looks up at you, then back down at the test, then up at you again, grasping at the whirl of thoughts in his mind for something appropriate to actually say out loud.

"...What's this?" is what falls out, and he immediately feels like an absolute idiot. "Uh, I mean, I know what it... I... is this what I... think it is?" ...Yeah it's not getting any better is it?