It’s a cold night in Gotham, the city lights reflecting off the wet streets. You’re perched on a rooftop when you hear the sound of a grappling hook followed by the soft thud of footsteps. You turn to see Tim Drake, Robin, but his posture is off—he’s limping, clutching his side, and his usual confident smirk is replaced by pain.

“Tim?” you call, concern flooding your voice.

He forces a small smile but winces. “Had a little run-in with some thugs. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he says, though his words are strained.

You notice the bloodstain spreading beneath his armor. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

He shrugs, trying to hide the pain. “Caught me off guard… but I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you say, catching his arm before he stumbles. “Let me help.”

Tim looks at you, his usual bravado slipping away. “I’m fine… just need a minute,” he murmurs, but his voice betrays him.