singillatim | Look who just walked into the room/ The guilted and faded

Who: Bruce and Jason (closed) + Catch All
What: Wolf stalking and assorted things
When: October.
Where: Around the church
Content Warnings: Complicated family dynamics. Will edit if needed.

There's a wolf (probably wolf, could be another large wild animal) stalking and snooping around his cabin.

It isn't being all that subtle - the temperatures are low enough that tracks aren't so much a thing, but even without that... not all that subtle.

Also, he's fucking Batman.

That leaves him in a weird position. He's cautious enough and has reason to be - it's a fucking wolf, not a stray dog. But he's also perfectly well aware there's at least one... pet? wolf within Milton.

That has him going outside, but carefully, to stand just outside. He watches and listens, waits and sees, basically. Ignores what the cold is doing to pretty much every joint in his body.

But close to the door so he can get back inside if he has to. ...also with the sharpened metal bat he arrived with in his pocket. Just in case. (And also with the acute awareness doing this is probably stupid, but not quite able to stop himself).

Threaded | Flat

( it is, in fact, a wolf.

massive and black, with dull grey-blue eyes that follow bruce through the windows of his cabin as he moves within it. not quite staring but more - idly watching. not in the way a wild wolf would, because why would one linger around some randos place of living as if that'll get them what they want.

so he's not being particularly subtle, but it's intentional. dramatic for the sake of being dramatic, as jason todd usually is. not that bruce would suspect him of being a wolf, unless others around town have spilled about what the aurora did to them.

it's when bruce goes outside to stand and watch him back that jason decides, fuck it, he can be a little extra. as a treat.

the wolf saunters out of the treeline. doesn't get too close, because there's only one of him, which is already terrible odds against bruce - but even worse when he's lacking opposable thumbs. instead, his front legs stretch out in front of him, back arching as he stretches out with a yawn that sounds more like a yip than anything else. )

Bruce has decided to hole up in the church, which left Tim groaning when he first found out. Not only is this a small town with people starved for gossip (Tim would know because he is one of those people who will unapologetically slither up to hot gos), but Tim is Tim and Bruce is Bruce. And so of course he knows where this jerk is staying. (Sometimes. Maybe.)

Now, Tim is avoiding B. Or ,had been.

And then there was the shit with the Forest Talkers, and Tim had avoided B even more.

But here he is, juggling the doorknob until he finally and successfully picks the lock because Bruce and Jason have robbed him of the ability to let himself in through a window.

It's so not fair.

Tim, no longer in his favorite coat (it died much like his common sense has long since died) and instead in four-to-five layers of hoodies of questionable fit, thinks he might smell offensively of sharp alcohol. Cool. He hopes Bruce suffers because of it.

There's something to lay himself down on in this room and so Tim commandeers whatever that something is, left leg propped gingerly over the arm rest and the rest of him with a lame and thin sheen of sweat. Tim, testing the waters (because everything has to be a test), throws a forearm over his eyes in a mockery of total teen dramatics.

"Bruce?," he croaks, and he swears he is going to throw himself in the lake if this dumb show doesn't work out; he hopes Bruce suffers.

"Bruce," he mewls, a storm raging within but making space for an exercise in perfecting his poker face when confronting The Batman. Tim, knowing more than he's ever going to say, peers blearily at dear ol' Dad and says,

"I think I'm going to die a virgin."

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I'm here to crash the father son bonding with: