"No kidding?" He asks, the words out of his mouth a placeholder as he gets the pencil and juggles angles and distances and squints in the already poor light to try to not... melt the thing.

Young Justice got into plenty of shenanigans- concerts were good shenanigans, and even the early days as Titans had plenty of resting and recreating. San Francisco was only kinda famous for the scene. So in spite of being an angry and black hearted soul, Tim finds his lips twitch up in reserved amusement.

"Schoolboy headed to church is any day ending in Y for us with boarding school syndrome," he says wryly. Doesn't miss the blazers, does miss (and he despises this part of himself, this piece that shouldn't have fit in the puzzle but does) the fighting.

And the fighting he had learned he could do in a suit. And tie. In a room full of other, older people in suits and ties.

(Tim Drake was Bruce Wayne's neighbor, once upon a time. Since then, he's learned a lot about privilege.)

With an eyeliner deemed good enough (he has No Idea what he's doing) and offering it back to its (second or third) owner with a commiserating sharpness, he prods, "Your dad a cop or something?"

(It's not painting a great picture, the information he does have.)