If he's quiet for too long, he'll sleep. So Tim ponders taking pity on the man with the smoking vice and offering him a stick of gum. He's found and stashed a sleeve of the stuff-- expired before he was even born.

Vintage shit.

Having something to do with your mouth is supposed to help the withdrawals; Tim's only ever heard it, never has directly put it into practice. Though he guesses Talking is also a thing people do with their mouths so... he's helping.

He grunts, brings his knees up and in so he can recline better against the... wall. "You and me both, buddy," he says. Because that's what you say when you spend a lifetime looking twelve.

"My brother... he goes from Human to full-fledged Werewolf in a day. It's ridiculous."

There's no big mournful side to his words, the fact of the matter being that Dick's just not with him here. Again. Tim's quick to clear up though, that,

"Not an actual werewolf, by the way. He's just-- just... hairy."

This can't be normal, something in him whispers. Quick--

"So, uh. You any good at building?"