Terry had found himself trapped in a monotonous pattern of repeating the same phrase like a broken record, "I'm fine," day after day. The words seemed to lose their meaning after so many repetitions, leaving the question of whether or not Terry was actually fine unanswered.

It had only been six months since Terry's mentor, Bruce Wayne, had passed away. The loss had left a gaping hole in Terry's life, one that he was struggling to fill. In the meantime, he had carried on being the new hero, finding and training a new protege to become the next Robin and keep up with the never-ending battles against crime.

But even as he donned the mask and fought the good fight, Terry couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing, that he had lost a part of himself when Bruce had left this world. Sure, they would butt heads a lot, pushing back at each other's stubbornness. But that mutual unspoken respect would always be there, even if one was no longer here.

He tried his best to keep his perpetual mourning hidden from those around him. As a mentor to his new Robin, he acted as an older brother figure, but even brothers had secrets to keep. The occasional slip-ups of talking to Bruce over his comms only to be met with silence increased, and his quips against enemies decreased, the testament of his grief becoming more evident despite his insistence on the opposite.

"Really, I'm alright." Terry sighed, curling his fingers around his mask. His resolve was faltering, he isn't supposed to show his vulnerability to others. He knew that his protege wanted to help take some of the burden off his shoulders. But this was a weight that not even a little Robin could alleviate. "There's a lot on my mind."

He stands in front of the large glass display case, looking up at the original batsuit once donned by the late Bruce Wayne. "You would've liked him." He chokes back the emotion in his voice. "He taught me everything I know about being him and-" He clamps his hand over his mouth for a brief second. "Sorry, I'm fine."