Summary:Tim learns about Stephanie's living situation and shares his alternate-identity plans. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's afternoon, and Steph's classes have just finished. Tim's had finished a period prior, so he's filled in the time with some study at the library. Ever punctual, he keeps an eye on the clock…
…and so as Steph leaves her class, the blue-eyed young man is right there at the door, and he falls into step walking beside her. "You'll never believe what I found, going through my old room at the Manor." Not Drake Manor, either, so it's the kind of thing they'll want privacy before he shows her.
It's only because of batling training that Stephanie doesn't squeak and jump and drop her notebook onto the floor in a cascade of papers when Tim seems to just materialize -poof- at her side… and then just start talking as if they'd left class together and were just continuing their conversation. The topic choice has the blonde, whose hair is up in a high pony tail, tilting her hair. The ends of her hair sweep against her back, and her lightly glossed lips purse thoughtfully.
"Hmm.. a mint condition copy of the Red Box, signed by Gary Gygax?" Stephanie asks, tone a tad bit high, light and airy, making her words sound simultaneously like a bad blonde stereotype and gently teasing. The quirk of her mouth seals the deal.
"Walk me to my dorm so I can drop off some of these books?" is asked a heartbeat or so after she gets Tim's reaction to her teasing his nerdiness by pulling that little gem out of thin air. (READ: Not so thin air. Stephanie has spent the last half decade or so that she's known Tim learning nerddom… mostly so she can tease him about it and not end up feeling dumb when he runs with a tangent she's unwittedly offered him.)
Tim doesn't seem to think there's anything wrong or questionable about being Suddenly There, and since she hasn't jumped, he continues on like it's no deal at all. "Ugh, I wish," he says. "Though honestly, more modern RPG design is where it's at. Especially the emphasis on collaboration. Gygax was so much more of a killer GM, and didn't even play by the rules. 'A good GM should only roll the dice for sound effects'. I think that's how he put it."
He blinks at her suggestion, still walking beside her. "Your dorm?" Did he know she stayed at the dorms? Oh jeez, was he supposed to know that? Regardless, he holds out his arm in silent offering. If she has books to carry, then damn it, he's going to carry some.
Stephanie's smile is soft and befitting of an italian renaissance painting. She's filing away this tidbit Tim's offered. After all, it is NEVER too early to shop for and horde away Christmas gifts. The trouble is managing gifts to these rich boys who could basically go out and just buy anything they want whenever they want. Still, there are a few years of back gifts that need giving, since international shipping is a beast.
"Yes…" Stephanie segueways to the topic of her dorm. Didn't he know that? Surely all of the Family knows that, right? It's not like it'd be hard for any of them to hack NYU's housing and find that part of her meager scholarship goes toward a residence on campus. A residence that she's leading the way toward now. A residence that's not a compete hole in the wall but is clearly no Manor Home. At least she doesn't have to roommate. Stephanie has learned to do without on other things in order for her money to stretch far enough for her to not have to explain the very minor detail of leaving just before Light's Out and then sneaking back in past four in the morning on almost a nightly basis.
While she didn't have much more than her binder in her hands, she does hand it offer when Tim offers his arm for it. The slightly glittery My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic backpack remains on her shoulder, however.
There are some things money can't buy. So obviously, she should shop for gift ideas by watching old MasterCard commercials. There's bound to be something there she can apply here, right?
He takes the binder and holds it under his farther arm, so his closer one is still free. It… hangs awkwardly at his side, while he intensely eyes her closer hand. Should he just go for it? Should he ask? Is holding hands in public too weird and kiddy?
While part of his brain scrutinises that topic, he still has enough presence of mind. "Huh. I'd just kind of thought you were staying with your mother. Well, makes it a pretty convenient spot, right?" Convenient for class, at least. Not so much for… extracurricular activities over in Staten Island. "But you know you're always welcome, right?"
Priceless. Stephanie glances at the intense gaze, following it toward her hand. her lips kick up again just before she reaches out to offer her hand, seeking to thread her fingers with his.
No. Holding hands in public isn't weird, and if anyone things it's kiddy, they can tell it to the Bat.
Staying with your mother. The phrase has Stephanie swallowing harshly, eyes cutting away for a half second before she rolls a shoulder. What's the best way to say 'Rehab is a thing that happens' and 'Dorm is cheaper than the apartment which they lost since Mom couldn't keep her job again'? Right. Not saying anything about it. So, Stephanie just nods at the spot being convenient and at being welcome.
"I know." Two words. Soft, quiet; the tone says more than the words do, that even after all this time, and managing a vehicle to at least get her to and from for her 'night shift', that staying over is just… she knows, and still…
Oh thank goodness, she caught him before his mind could get completely stuck in an infinite, anxious loop and end up overheating. He lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and relaxes as his fingers squeeze hers.
She doesn't say anything about those things. But his eyes are glued to her face while she looks away, even for just that half-second, and that noncommittal shrug. She doesn't say anything. But just as she suspects, it'll be easy for Red Robin to dig in and find out about all this. When it comes to putting his electronic nose where it doesn't belong, he's second only to Oracle. Now that it's on his radar, he's going to find out.
After those two words, he lets them walk in silence for a while, thinking it over. "Do you want to talk with them, together?" So it's not just Tim offering it, and it's not just her asking them for it.
At about this point, they finish walking up to her dorm.
At the door, Stephanie pauses. She needs to take her hand back from Tim so she can fish around for her keys. They rattle against the knob as she unlocks and lets them in to a space that really isn't as brightly and girlishly decorated as her wardrobe and accessories hint that she would keep a room. Spartan, and ready to be packed up and moved out of quickly is the best way to describe her space.
"I'm not even sure where to start with that conversation," she finally admits once they're in her room and she's closed the door. The complete lack of security in this place makes her keeping her full Spoiler kit in the Cave make full sense now. Her desk is neatly layered with homework and notes.
Boo, now they're not holding hands anymore. Tim's fingers fidget in the air, like there's something 'wrong' with not holding Stephanie's. Soon enough, the door opens, and he steps inside, giving it a slow look over. Including, yes, a quick analysis of possible exit/entry points, what would make good cover, and other elements of tactics.
"We can work on that together," he says. He tugs the door closed behind him.
A young man and a young woman, in total privacy, without even a roommate to interrupt them. It seems perfect for—
—discussing secret-identity stuff. "The thing I found. Want to see?"
"Yes." Stephanie says, ready to move on to a different subject. She sets her bag done on the single bed, while pulling the chair away from the desk so Tim can sit. She'll curl her feet up against the edge of the bed to see what he has.
So she's ready to jump on a topic change, too. Tim files that away. Dammit, why can't he be either perceptive all the time or oblivious all the time? Such a hassle.
But he sits down on the provided chair and sets his bag in his lap. After a bit of digging — of course he put it right down the bottom — he pulls it out. "Ta dah." An old, and fake, driver's license, from back when he was in his teens. She can especially tell it's fake because of the name on it: not Tim Drake, but Alvin Draper.
"It's been /ages/ since I last used this ID," he says. "Like, not since I infiltrated that summer camp, I think. But I was looking through the old room, and I found it. And… I think it's time I started using it again."
Stephanie waits, eyes on Tim rummaging through the backpack. She keeps from fidgeting by curling the fingers of a hand around her ankle and rubbing at the small bones she can feel under her skin. Her other hand rests, open palm, against her bed spread until Tim offers over the ID. She shifts, reaching out to take it. Her blue-green gaze skims the unknown name.
"I'm having to resist the urge to scream this name in annoynace," she quips lightly before looking up and offering the card back.
"I'll refrain and instead ask: Why?"
Tim pouts. "Because that's the only proper use for a full name all at once, clearly." He still remembers when his mother would bring out the middle name. So long later, it brings shivers down his spine.
The question brings his attention back to the present, and he smiles. "Layers," he says. "See, the boss is very strict about IDs. Individuals have to keep their IDs secret from everyone. Even if I join, say, the Young Avengers, I couldn't de-mask and be part of the social thing. That's probably my fault: I figured out Dick, deduced Batman from there, and knew all the rest along the way, so I showed how the information can make a deductive chain. But…"
He taps the card. "I'm only banned from outing Tim Drake. If I work well with a hero who's not in the family… then I could take off the mask and say, 'Hi, I'm Alvin Draper, and it wouldn't risk anything."
Tim pouts. Stephanie blinks. Did he really NOT get the Chipmunk reference? Dude! The idea of seeing about a fake ID for herself under the monkier Brittany Rose or something, just to see how LONG it would take him to finally catch the joke toys at the back of her mind.
"Except that you're forgetting a little thing like your face. Sure. You're not on the cover of like Fortune 500 or Forbes like Bossman is, but that's still risking someone seeing your face, knowing you as Alvin and THEN running across your face again somewhere as Tim and, boom. Issues," Stephanie says, voice soft and low to keep it from carrying into the hall and adjacent rooms.
Tim nods. "This is true. Yeah, Tim Drake is more obscure, but obscurity isn't the same as security." He holds up a finger. "Which is why I want to update Alvin Draper. Make the face different. Get some makeup to wear under the mask and make it more distinct from usual. Or get a holomask, like Helena's."
Stephanie listens to all of this, somehow just KNOWING Tim would have thought through whatever counter points she'd have on offer. Still. The fact that he acknowledges her point as valid before offering his solutions.
"Then.. I guess talk to Helena. Make up the mask is way more annoying than it's worth," she says with a sageness of voice that makes her sounds elder than she looks. Which means she actually sounds just about exactly her age.
Tim nods as he takes the card back. "Right. Which also means figuring out just what features Alvin Draper should have, to make him different. Maybe a cleft chin, since that's genetically impossible for Tim Drake." He stashes the card again, and gives her a playful smile. "Any requests for what your second boyfriend should look like?" Or would 'Alvin' count as a third?
Cue the blush.
Stephanie sputters slightly as being asked what she'd like for her second boyfriend. Red to her ears, Stephanie's eyes cut away in a valiant but futile attempt to GET A GRIP.
"Well… are you looking at this as a way to 'out' Rob and not be tied back to Tim? Because, that rules out being a red-head…." Oh God. Are we REALLY having this conversation!? I will not blush! (I'm blushing aren't I? Dammit, Steph.)
Tim's smile grows, turning wicked when he sees the blush. He sets his bag down and slides in closer, sitting next to her on the bed. With his arm laid out behind her, but not quite actually embracing her. "That's a big part of it, but having an alternate ID is great for all sorts of things. Believe it or not, wearing a great big costume and cowl often makes you stand out during an investigation." He strokes fingers through her hair. "Redhead, huh? I could do a wig; don't think the holo-masks can help with that."
Red Alert! Tim is grinning wickedly. Stephanie's blush reignites, spilling down her jaw to cascade down her neck. She doesn't tense as he closes in, however. After all, she's not afraid of him. She's just blushing madly and her heart's racing around like a rabbit's. Feeling the gentle tug of his fingers through the long high pony tail doesn't help matters and she tips her head a little more toward him.
"You do know that wigs are worse than makeup, right? Plus, what if someone grabs it and yanks? Unless you're gluing everynight, that's going to come RIGHT off, and then what? Even if… Red being a red…." Where was she giong with that?
Tim places a kiss on one fiery red cheek. "Red hair would just match your skin tone, right now. And hey, red hair would work well with a skin tone change to something freckly. I know the mask's good at that. Maybe there's some way of making a… holo-skullcap too, or some micro-pigments to just lace through my hair and change colour with a wireless command…"
He HAD to mention the blush she was ignoring, did he? Stephanie starts to huff only for that gentle chaste kiss to her cheek to take all the air out of the huff.
"You probably would have to do a subtly hue shift… like add soem auburns to make your hair look more like a chocolate brown than the raven black you have now," she manages, body already leaning toward the warm of him being RIGHT THERE, cheek chasing the feel of his lips.
Since she's turning towards him, Tim drapes his arm more fully around her waist. He really is an Alvin DRAPER, isn't he? "And it'd have to work with the eyebrows, too, otherwise the whole thing would just…" He distracts himself with a few more kisses, brushing her cheek as she turns towards him. "…look… wrong…" Oh no, his most recent kiss misses her cheek entirely. And instead sinks softly into her mouth.