peektuttut | [RL, Crane & Tim] Seems that Doomsday's come Early this Year

There was an uncomfortable parallel between the Gotham Tim knew, and the one he'd been introduced to over the internet. And even thinking that sounded ridiculous. Still, it was real enough to warrant a serious amount of thought and attention - attention he really needed to be directing to his city before it fell apart around him.

But that other Gotham had gone to hell about when his did. And that other Gotham still had a Bruce.(Not to mention a Batman, but considering he'd started wearing the mantle, Tim didn't want to accept that as the parallel; Bruce was alive.) It deserved a little research, and what better way to go about it than to take a trip himself? Just, without informing anyone of his arrival.

Just looking around wouldn't be good enough, though; Tim was aware of that much. But there wasn't exactly anyone to talk about this to there, no one who'd--

Nygma.

It was obvious, really. Eddie didn't think Batman was dead either. And considering even Dick thought he was dead...well, talking to someone who knew better would be refreshing. Even it it was Nygma.

The worldhop - a secret he'd probably have to pay back with a favor - was as uncomfortable as the last few, but it didn't stop Tim from hunting down addresses. They weren't that different from his world; Eddie was staying at someplace Bruce owned. And Bruce owned a lot of property in Tim's world. It wasn't long before he found the right penthouse; it took much less time to sneak up to the right floor. Out of the elevator was what worked as a veritable front door. Tim wasted no time in knocking, frowning at the door frame.

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And Nygma was not home. But he was.

He opened the door in one swoop, narrowed a brow at the boy before him. Were boy scouts selling cookies now, too? A moment of critical, silent observation passed before he spoke.

"Well?"

Oh. Oh fuck. Tim looked up, startled. "You aren't Eddie." Oh, fuck. He glanced behind him at the elevator's closed doors. What was Crane doing here? What the hell was Nygma thinking, letting Crane stay - was he letting Crane stay? "Is he - here?"

Nervous, he could feel it. So this kid intended to come-- and it connected. Tim. Strange company you keep, Edward. He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully and stood aside. Crane offered a pleasant smile.

"Come inside."

"Uh." All sorts of bad ideas there, really. It was stupid. Robin - Batman - wouldn't risk it. Tim...probably should. Fuck. He took a short step forward, standing in the doorway, a forced smile on his face. "I don't want to intrude...Is Nygma here? Now?"

"Soon. He'd want to see you, Tim," he offered casually, a hand at his shoulder guiding him in, that same pleasant look seeming almost malicious.

"Would you like a drink? Something to eat?"

Tim tensed, at the use of his name, and the hand on his shoulder. Fuck, fuck fuck. He had to get out of here without looking more suspicious than he already did. "No, I'm good, thanks. How, uh - how d'you know me?" Playing the fool usually proved useful.

The door closed behind him, locking with an audible click. He stepped away, giving him some room, the anxiety coming off him thick enough to smell.

"Sit down," he offered-- though it sounded more like a demand-- as he moved to sit himself in a stand alone recliner. "We met before, though superficially. In the community chat room." A pleasant smile. "I must say I didn't figure you to be so... young."

It was an effort not to glance over his shoulder at the door. That just locked, didn't it? Wonderful. Running through what kind of lock it could be and how hard it would be to get out, Tim shifted inside a little further, hands in his jacket pockets.

Easing himself down to sit on the edge of a couch, Tim shrugged one stiff shoulder. "Maybe I'm just short."

"No," He started, examined him for a moment, "Your build suggests late teens, early twenties. 18, 19. Possibly 20. No older, no younger." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, "How does he know you? I presume from your Gotham, but otherwise, I mean."

Forcing himself to shrug again, Tim watched Crane carefully. He shifted in his coat, letting it bunch up, hide his musculature. "Or maybe I'm young," he conceded, stretching out his legs.

And, now's the time for thinking fast, great. "He's a private investigator. I thought my girlfriend was cheating on me, so I checked him out."

"Awful dedicated to follow him all the way out here. You seemed like friends." Casually, was all. Not accusatory, though his eyes said otherwise.

Laughing a little, Tim pulled his hands out of his pockets, waving one. "I first met him months ago. We talked, is all, and kept talking. Wouldn't call him a friend, but I did have a favor to ask." He leaned his arms on his knees and shrugged again. "I mean, a favor in so far as becoming a client again."

... Interesting. He was lying, of course, there was no reason to travel this far let alone know where he was being housed in this Gotham without him being known personally. He shifted, then settled again.

"Tell me about your Gotham, Tim."

Rubbing his knees and tugging at his pant legs, Tim quirked a crooked smile and shook his head. He was watching Crane carefully, resisting the urge to watch the door and wait for Eddie to show. "I don't really think that's a good idea. Could cause, I don't know, a paradox or something."

Well aren't you considerate, "I'm sure you being here has already done that, Tim." Oh, there was that underlaying threat there too, a little malice lining his words.

Tim's eyes narrowed slightly. Great. "Nah. According to the community, all this world hopping doesn't seem to do much." He didn't mention his concerns on the parallels between their worlds. "Besides, there's nothing special for you to hear."

"World hopping, no. Living here? Meddling? Possibly." Intently he watched him like a cat to a mouse, waiting for the move that set it off, the action that sent this tense though personable meet and greet tumbling into something more dangerous.

He half hoped Eddie wouldn't return home soon.

"Are you still together?"

Lifting a hand to run through his hair, Tim frowned in confusion that was only half faked. "Yeah, but I'm not here to stay, or meddle.

"What d'you mean, am I still together?" Hands went back in his jacket pockets, and he let himself glance toward the door. This was Crane, after all, he shouldn't be over worried.

"You and your girlfriend," Simply, as if just making conversation.

Which Tim didn't buy for a moment. The frown deepened. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh." Tim stood, glancing toward the door again. "D'you know if he's coming back soon? I could stop by some other time..."

"You seem anxious."

He smiled tightly. "How so?"

[RL, Crane & Tim] Seems that Doomsday's come Early this Year

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