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Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he climbed into Peter’s car. At six in the morning he’d awoken to the shrill noise of his ringtone, and when he’d picked up, it was only to hear Peter telling him to get dressed and downstairs quickly. Apparently he’d finally gotten a warrant he’d been chasing after for almost a month, and now he wanted to bust into some guy’s office before he got in for the day. This unfortunately meant Tim had to wake up at an ungodly hour to help, because apparently he gave good imput. Damn his stupidly smart brain!
Tim sighed and took a long swing from his travel mug of coffee, which was the only reason he was even conscious at the early hour and not passed out in his handler’s car. It was also unfortunately missing it’s lid, but he wasn’t too worried about spilling, the mug was already almost a third empty and Tim was a highly trained vigilante. In Batman’s words, ‘A bat doesn't do anything they don’t want to,’ and he didn’t want to spill his coffee, meaning he wouldn’t.
Tim was just glad Peter hadn’t noticed, there was no way he would’ve let him in the car and Tim would have either had to walk, or go without coffee, neither of which were valid options for this early in the morning. Why did two of them even have to go to this sting? Peter had a whole team of agents at his disposal and it was his day off. Tim sighed and slumped down in his seat. Over in the driver’s seat he could practically hear Peter roll his eyes at his exaggerated movements, but it was early and he was tired. Tim was allowed a little drama.
“Come on, Neal. It’s not even that early.” Peter said, taking a turn a little too fast and almost causing Tim’s coffee to spill. The only thing that saved Peter’s car from needing a cleaning was Tim’s wonderful reflexes. Peter should thank him.
“Why do I even have to go?” he asked, “It’s early and I don't even know anything about the case. It’s also my day off.”
Peter shrugged, “Did you have plans? Because I remember yesterday you told me you were just planning to watch TV and I know for a fact that Mozzie’s out of town right now.” He glanced over at Tim, who schooled his face into the most unimpressed look he could muster. “Wow.” Peter commented, “You’re really not a morning person are you?”
“Nope.” Tim mumbled. He hoped that the sting didn’t run too long, he had a few meetings at the office later and it was rare that he was able to slip his anklet long enough to go play CEO for even a few hours. Tim tipped back his nearly empty mug, draining the last few precious drops and sighing contentedly. After nearly an hour and a half of being a sleep deprived zombie, he was finally starting to wake up as the caffeine flowed through his veins.
Tim could see the exact moment Peter caught sight of the empty coffee cup in his hand, “Neal! Why don’t you have a lid!? You’re going to spill all over the car!” Peter exclaimed.
Tim tilted the now empty cup towards Peter, “It’s empty. I can’t spill it if there’s nothing in it.”
“Yes, Neal. I completely believe that you brought an empty cup into the car and have been taking fake sips of it the whole ride” Peter deadpanned.
Tim smirked at him, “What can I say? Acting is a critical element for a con artist, and I can’t let myself get rusty, now can I?” Peter’s only response was a sigh. Tim smirked, an expression that quickly fell off his face when Peter pulled into a familiar parking lot and announced they’d reached their destination.
It was Wayne Enterprises, because of course it was. What were the chances he’d get recognised? He was rarely able to get in the office these days, and before he moved to New York he barely visited the location anyways. He’d probably be able to blend in with the other agents, and even if he was recognised, he could just play it off as looking similar to Tim Drake.
Tim blinked, shit! His secretary would be in the office all day today and she’d definitely recognise him. They talked almost every day over video and before he went undercover they saw each other even more often. Tim took a deep breath and purposefully relaxed his shoulders, the last thing he needed was for Peter to pick up on his sudden tension. It would all work out as long as they avoided the fiftieth floor. Tim’s only consolation was that the executives he was meeting with wouldn’t be in until much later in the day. They definitely knew what he looked like and they were much more likely to run into them than his secretary.
As Tim got out of the car he vaguely registered Peter telling him some story about Satchmo and he made an effort to tune into what he was saying. Deep breaths. He was a bat, it would all be fine if he just acted normal. They entered the building and went up to the front reception desk, where Peter started talking to the woman who was working. Tim pulled down his fedora and started fiddling with his phone. He recognised the woman working the front desk, her name was Nancy and she happened to be one of the few people in this building who might recognise him, because of course. This day was turning out to be absolute shit.
The sigh Tim let out as the elevator doors closed behind them, caused Peter to turn to him and raise an eyebrow questioningly. Tim just waved a hand in the air, “Nothing, ‘m just tired.” Peter shrugged and turned to press the button of the floor they were headed to.
Now that he’d managed to relax slightly, he was curious who was being investigated. They usually managed a pretty thorough background check on anyone high enough in the food chain to have an office, so he was curious who’d managed to slip past them. Peter stepped back and Tim blinked, once, twice, but the little glowing button stayed the same. Floor fifty.
The only offices on floor fifty were the ones meant for his family and Tim was the only one who would be using his for at least a week. Tim turned to Peter slowly, “Um, Peter? Who exactly are we investigating?” he asked nervously.
“Were you not paying any attention when I was talking to the receptionist, Neal?” Peter asked.
Tim tried to pull off a casual shrug and failed, judging by the look on Peter’s face, “I was texting Mozzie and I figured I could ask you later. Later is now.” Peter was definitely giving him an odd look now, but before either of them could say anything the elevator doors opened, spitting them out onto the fiftieth floor.
Peter walked forward out of the elevator, confidently striding towards Tim’s certain doom. His receptionist Sam, quickly came into view and Tim tried to shrink down, keeping himself as much behind Peter as possible without tapping into his training. Okay, maybe he was using a little bit of his training, but this was truly a nightmare situation.
Peter flashed his badge and warrant at her and requested access to the office. Luckily for Tim, she seemed busy going over the outline for Tim’s meetings that day and only gave Peter a cursory look, eyes slipping over Tim without lingering and only catching on Peter’s badge for a moment. She waved Peter through the door, then they were in.
Tim’s eyes widened in disbelief, had he actually done it? Tim basked in the feeling of triumph for approximately two seconds before the reality of the situation crashed into him. They were in his office. Timothy Drake’s office, where Peter was about to collect as much information as he could about the CEO. That meant he would see all the photographs and when Peter inevitably took fingerprints, he would be shocked to discover they all matched his criminal informant’s.
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Peter was looking around Timothy Drake’s office with interest. At first glance the young CEO seemed like he was rather organised, there were no stray papers laying out and everything seemed eerily clean. It’d taken forever to get the warrant to get in here and it would be beyond annoying if there was nothing to find. The office had a solid wall of floor to ceiling windows and the walls were made of panels of dark wood. There was a shelving unit, two comfortable looking armchairs, and in the center of the room was the desk.
His first move was to walk over to the desk, both drawers were locked and Peter determined he could get the secretary to unlock those after he checked over the rest of the room. In the meantime he leaned down and examined the few things that were laying out on the desk. There was a small basket of regular office supplies, a mini printer, and several small fidget toys. Peter made a mental note that Drake may have attention issues.
Peter glanced up and saw Neal standing across the room, he was scanning the skyline out the window and seemed to be lost in thought. He raised his eyebrows involuntarily, Neal had been acting weird all morning. Maybe he could get El to talk to him, Neal would probably open up to her about whatever was going on.
After Peter concluded there was nothing else of interest on the desk, he moved to the shelving units lining the walls. The shelves looked like they mostly contained pictures and a few trinkets interspersed. The first picture Peter came across was of a group of four, all of them looked to be in their late teens and they looked like they were having a great time. One girl was shoving an ice cream cone into the face of a boy who was blurry and half out of the frame of the camera. Next to them the tallest of the bunch, he was wearing a t-shirt with the Superman logo and standing with his arms wrapped around the shoulders of the teen in front of him who had a small smile and was wearing the darkest pair of shades he'd ever seen.
Peter moved on to the next picture. This one contained the easily recognisable Bruce Wayne, Drake’s adoptive father and one of the richest men in the world. He was sitting over a chess board, playing a game he was clearly losing to a redheaded woman in a wheelchair, who was covered in tattoos. They were both smiling widely at the camera and between them a young black haired blue eyed man was giving them both bunny ears. After a moment Peter recognised him as Dick Grayson, Bruce’s eldest and also the only one of his children who didn’t shy away from media attention. There were several magazines in his house featuring the young heir to the Wayne fortune.
The third picture featured two women, both barely visible beneath the layers of dirt and mud coating them. Behind them a huge obstacle course stretched into the distance, where there were several barely visible people dotting the obstacles. They were both smiling at the camera, the blonde was giving a huge thumbs up and beaming at the camera while the young asian woman was smiling softly at her.
The next picture in line was a young boy who looked like he was trying his hardest to scowl at the camera, but was clearly failing due to the massive ball of fur in his arms that looking closer, could only be several large fluffy cats. Peter gave a small smile and moved on.
The next was a picture of two men cooking. The first was huge, built like a tank and had a shock of white in the front of his hair. If it weren't for the batman apron tied around his waist and the fact that he seemed to be getting chastised by the elderly man standing next to him, Peter would have dismissed him as someone dangerous and to be avoided.
Peter was about to move onto the final picture when a muffled thump sounded behind him. He turned to see Neal sitting cross legged in front of the desk, head leaning back and eyes closed. He looked tired, but it was the kind of tiredness that couldn’t only be from lack of sleep. Something was definitely wrong with Neal.
“Neal?” Peter questioned, walking over and crouching next to the conman. “Neal, are you ok?” His only response was a muffled groan and Neal raising his head slightly to bang it back into the desk behind him causing another muffled thump.
“Neal, I’m gonna need words. Do you need to go to the hospital?” Peter asked. Neal raised his hand and rubbed at his face. Sighing deeply, he pulled his hands off his face and opened his eyes.
“I’m fine Peter.” He said, “I’m just about to do something really fucking stupid.” Peter blinked, in all the years he’d known Neal he’d never heard the conman swear, not even once. The man had been shot multiple times and still managed to control his language. Peter reviewed his earlier statement and edited it slightly. Something was definitely VERY wrong with Neal.
“What are you going to do Neal?” Peter asked.
Neal smiled wryly, “I’m about to tell you some stuff that you’re probably going to freak out about. Then you’re gonna decide to not believe me. Then when you realise it's the truth, you're gonna get angry.” He buried his face in his hands and Peter heard a muffled “Dammit.”
Peter rubbed his eyes, fighting off his steadily growing headache. His concern had quickly faded into resigned annoyance, “Just tell me Neal.” He sighed, “You’ve lied to me before and you’ll do it again. I don’t doubt it. Just tell me so we can fix whatever you screwed up. Did you rob someone, or is a sociopath going to come after me and El again? Is it Keller? Please tell me it’s not Keller.” He leaned tiredly against the desk next to Neal, drained of energy.
The two of them sat in silence, Peter waiting for Neal to fess up and just trying to revel in the peace while it lasted. Everything had been going so well recently. Too well actually. God, he needed therapy just to deal with Neal’s impact on his career and personal life. A few more minutes passed and suddenly Peter heard what could only be a snort, coming from Neal’s direction.
Assuming he must have misheard, he turned to face Neal and was surprised to see him looking like he was struggling to hold in a laugh. His hand was clamped over his mouth and he was steadily turning red. Peter’s mouth dropped open, “Neal? Wha-” He cut off confused as saying the conman’s name seemed to only make the laughter worse.
Neal raised a hand to Peter, gesturing for him to wait. After a few moments Neal seemed to have collected himself enough to speak, “Peter, I- Just, Oh my god. You like- Shit, you have no clue- I just…” He trailed off.
Peter rolled his eyes, “That’s a very helpful explanation, Neal.” He said, causing another snort from Neal, before his expression turned more solemn.
Neal spoke quietly, “Before I tell you everything- You just have to understand Peter, I’m a liar. And I’m- Shit- I’m good at it Peter. You’re probably the person I’m closest to here- And you still don’t- Fuck this.” He was silent for a moment. “I lied, Peter. I lied to you.” He said, meeting Peter’s eyes. There was a darkness in Neal’s eyes that Peter hadn’t seen before, it made him want to run and hide. It reminded him of the agents who’d been in the field too long and had seen too much.
“What exactly did you lie about?” Peter asked hesitantly, no longer sure he wanted the answer.
Neal sighed and looked at the ceiling, leaning his head back against the desk once more. He spoke so quietly that Peter could barely hear, “Everything, Peter. Nothing you know about me is true. My name, age, family, childhood, skills, none of it’s real.” He laughed hollowly, “I don’t even have a spleen Peter- And you know none of it.” He sighed, closing his eyes.
It was quiet as the minutes ticked by. Suddenly, a shrill beeping sound broke the tension, it was coming from Peter’s watch. Peter sighed, “Ok,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “We have to get out of here before Drake gets in. We can finish discussing this back at your apartment.” Peter got up and started moving toward the door, it was only once he’d twisted the handle halfway that he realised Neal hadn’t moved, “Neal, we have to go. Now.”
Neal made no move to get up, “No, Peter. We really don’t.”
“Timothy Drake is going to be here in five minutes and we need to be gone. Come on, Neal.” Just because Neal decided to have an existential crisis right now, didn’t mean they had to sacrifice the entire case.
Neal chuckled, “No one’s coming, Peter. We're fine. Seriously.” He waved a hand in the air, “Trust me. Tim Drake won’t be a problem.”
“What?” Peter asked, giving up and sitting in an armchair.
Neal stood fluidly and moved to the shelves, picking up the picture Peter didn’t have time to examine. Peter watched as Neal flipped the photo over and removed it from the frame, he walked over and shoved it into Peter’s hands. He plopped down in the other armchair and looked expectantly at him. Peter looked down at the photo in his hands, at first glance it appeared to be a photo of the Wayne family. His eyes scanned the photo, trying to figure out what Neal wanted him to see-
Neal? Why was Neall in the Wa-
Wait. Peter quickly flipped the photo, reading the back.
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The Wayne Family 2025
Bruce Wayne(52)
Richard Grayson-Wayne(32)
Cassandra Wayne(27)
Timothy Drake-Wayne(25)
Duke Thomas-Wayne(23)
Damian Wayne(18)
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Peter flipped back to the image and matched up the names on the back…
Neal was Timothy Drake-Wayne, the young CEO whose office the two of them were sitting in right now. Peter wasn’t even sure how to process this, he looked up meeting Neal- No, Timothy’s gaze.
“Huh.” Peter said intelligently. Neal/Timothy shrugged, not saying anything. Peter took a deep breath, “Just please answer me honestly,” He held up the picture, “Is this true?”
Neal/Timothy nodded, “Yeah, Peter. It is.”
“Why.” Peter asked, “Why become Neal Caffery?”
Neal/Timothy ran a hand through his hair, “God, that’s a long story.” He met Peter’s gaze, “But honestly, you deserve the truth at this point. B will be pissed, but that’s his problem.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “So how much do you know about Gotham?”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows in response to Neal/Timothy’s question, “Not much. If you’re really Bruce Wayne’s kid that means you were born there, right?” Neal/Timothy nodded.
“Yeah. I’m a Gothamite, born and raised.” Neal/Timothy gazed off into the distance.
“What should I call you?” Peter asked.
Neal/Timothy’s eyes snapped to him, “Uh… Whatever works for you, but I normally go by Tim.”
Peter nodded, “Ok, Tim… So, Gotham?” Peter prompted.
Tim gave a small smile before it fell and his breath wooshed out in a huff, “My parents died when I was teenager. Mom went first, it was a plane crash when I was 14. My dad was killed a couple years later. When my dad died, Bruce took me in.” Tim glanced down at the picture in Peter’s hand, “Then a few years later, B… Well, he was gone for a while and I took over the company.”
“What about your older brother?” Peter said, casting a glance at the photo.
“My younger brother, Damian. We only had him for about a month at that point and Damian was…” Tim trailed off, clearly thinking, “He wasn’t okay at first. His mother and grandfather had him until he was ten and he had some major issues from that. Dick was given custody of him and he needed to focus on that. I was almost done with highschool anyways...” He shrugged, “It was the best decision at the time. After a while, I went off to look for Bruce so he took over the company anyway.”
“Okay, but what does this have to do with you becoming Neal.” Peter said.
Tim rubbed his temples, “Okay, we’ll get there, but first, a slight detour. What do you know about Gotham’s heroes?”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows in thought, “Um, I know about Batman and Robin and I think there’s others, but I don’t know too much.”
Tim nodded, “Okay, right now the official heroes of Gotham City are Batman, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Signal. There are more who work in Gotham, but they’re based in other cities or operate too much outside the law for Gotham to advertise them. The point is… I’m one of them.”
“What?” Peter asked, making sure he heard right.
“I’m a Gotham hero. I’m Neal right now because of that.” Tim leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, burying his hands in his hair, “There’s corruption in the FBI and I’ve been weeding it out.” He sighed and hung his head, “It runs deep Peter.”
There was quiet for a moment while Peter digested that. Neal was Tim, Tim was Timothy Drake-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne was a superhero, “Which one?” Peter blurted out suddenly.
“What?” Tim looked confused at the sudden outburst.
“Which hero are you? Are you one of the official or unofficial ones?” Peter asked.
Tim smiled and held out his hand, “Red Robin, official hero of Gotham City. Nice to meet you.”
Rather than taking Tim’s hand, Peter made a face, “Like the restaurant?”
Tim dropped his hand immediately and frowned, “Goddammit!” He exclaimed, accidentally kicking out his foot and hitting the little table between the two chairs, “That goddamn restaurant, I should have sued them when I had the chance!”
Peter raised his eyebrows, “I take it that’s a sore spot?” He asked teasingly. Tim glared at him and he raised his hands in surrender.
Tim sighed, grinding his teeth, “Yes, Peter. Red Robin, like the restaurant.” Peter snorted slightly and Tim resumed glaring, “Do you want to know or not?”
Peter rolled his eyes, “Yes, I won't mention it again.” He gestured, “Please, continue.”
“Ok,” Tim said, scratching his eyebrow, “So basically I figured out who Batman and Robin were when I was seven and stalked them. I would follow them across the rooftops and take pictures of them. My parents weren’t really around a lot, so I managed to get away with it. After a while, I noticed Robin changed and I figured out it was a different person under the mask. Then Robin disappeared all together.” Tim sighed, “After the second Robin disappeared, Batman became more violent and if he’d kept going, he would have gotten killed. So, because I knew their civilian identities, I tracked the first Robin down and told him he needed to be Robin again.” Under his breath, Tim muttered, “And Batman needs a Robin.” It sounded familiar, something that Tim had said a million times before, a mantra of sorts.
Tim took another deep breath and continued, “The first Robin said no. He’d grown up, become his own hero. He’s Nightwing by the way. Bludhaven’s hero, but he works in Gotham a lot. When he said no to going back to Robin, I went to Batman and forced him to make me Robin. I stole the suit and followed him on patrol, eventually he realised that if he didn’t train me I would get myself killed. So, I became Robin.” Tim’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping his hair.
Tim took a deep breath and released his hands, sitting up, “A lot of other stuff happened, I had to quit Robin for a while, the second Robin came back to life, and a few others joined us.” He paused, “I imagine you’ve probably figured out who Batman is by now?” Tim asked. Peter thought for a second and it all clicked into place, he nodded silently. He’d like to say he was shocked, but he didn’t want to interrupt Tim’s story.
Tim pressed his lips into a thin line before continuing, “Remember how Bruce went missing for a while?” Peter nodded, “Well, we actually thought he died. Dick took over Batman and made Damian Robin. He kicked me out of the position, so I became Red Robin. That’s also around when I created Neal. I needed a solid civilian identity to help me search for Bruce. I was the only one who thought he was still alive, so I was on my own. I used Neal for a couple of the less than legal things I needed to do while looking. That’s when my first crimes started popping up. During my search I lost my spleen, which is honestly a huge pain someti-”
Peter’s mind blue screened and he cut Tim off, “You don’t have a spleen!?”
“Uh… Yeah? I said that earlier.” Peter thought back. Tim had said that, huh.
“Anyways…” Tim started, pausing to see if he would be cut off again. Realizing he wouldn’t, he continued, “After I found Bruce, I wanted to retire Neal so I let you catch me. Then I just had some friends make sure everyone thought I was still in jail. Eventually the JL needed an in with the FBI, so I volunteered to bring Neal back.” He shrugged, “And that’s it.”
“Wow.” Peter glanced down at the photo in his hand, “So you and all these people are Gotham’s heroes.”
Tim made a face, “Not quite.” He got up and unlocked one of the drawers in his desk and brought back a different picture. This one didn’t have a frame and looked well loved. Tim pointed at the picture in Peter’s hand, “That picture is just the ‘Wayne family.’” He made air quotes, “There’s a lot more than just that.” Tim handed him the second picture. “Everyone has to come over for a winter holidays get together thing we do every year, so we do all the family photos then. Trust me when I say that one’s always the most boring of the bunch.” He gestured at the ‘Wayne Family’ photo again, “The one I just gave you is the Bats and Birds.” At Peter’s questioning look, Tim expanded, “Every bat and bird themed hero with a strong connection to Batman and Gotham.” Peter set the old photo to the side and looked at the new one.
The photo was not what Peter expected. It was a large clump of people standing in front of a stone wall and most of them were in costume, sans masks. Tim interrupted his thoughts, “Technically that one’s not supposed to leave the cave, but I can’t visit very often so I made a copy.”
Peter laughed, “Yeah, something like this seems like it could be a problem for you guys.” Peter took another look at the photo. Tim was clearly in the front with his arm wrapped around a man with a white streak in his hair. He was wearing a leather jacket and under his other arm there was a red helm- “Is that the Red Hood! He’s on the FBI’s most wanted list!” Peter exclaimed.
Tim cringed, “I told you, some of us operate a bit outside the law.”
“But he KILLS people!” Peter exclaimed.
Tim looked offended, “Only people who deserve it.”
“And he’s part of your family?” Peter asked, thinking back to the photo on the wall that was definitely the Red Hood in a Batman apron, being scolded by an elderly man.
“Yeah, Jason Todd. My ‘dead’ brother.” Tim said, air quoting, “He’s the Robin that died and I took over after.”
“Your brother is the Red Hood.” Peter asked again.
Tim gave him a thumbs up, “Yup, two of my other siblings were child assassins before they joined the family.”
Peter felt faint and decided to move on, “So who else is in this?” He asked, returning his focus to the picture.
Tim looked over his shoulder and pointed to people as he gave brief descriptions, “That’s Dick, he’s Nightwing, the family’s big brother and circus enthusiast. He grew up an aerialist and like I said earlier he was the first Robin, he was also Batman for a while. He’s been in the business practically forever and he was the first kid to really grow up entrenched in the hero community. Dick plays stupid, but he honestly just dosn’t like people knowing the full extent of what he can do.”
“Next is Babs,” Tim said, pointing to the one person in the picture not wearing a costume. She was wearing all black and Peter recognised her from the picture where she was playing chess with Bruce, “Babs is Oracle, our resident hacker and pretty much the coordinator for all the Gotham heroes and sometimes the Justice League. She used to be Batgirl back when Dick was Robin. She’s a certified genius and is willing to do almost anything to help anyone she considers family.”
Tim moved on, pointing to the next person in the picture, “Like I said earlier, that’s Jason. He’s Red Hood and Robin number two. He tried to kill me once and never get him started on Jane Austin, he won’t stop talking for hours and then he’ll yell at you for falling asleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, clearly speaking from personal experience.
Peter wanted him to expand more on the, ‘He tried to kill me once,’ but instead, Tim’s finger moved to the short asian woman from the obstacle course picture, “Cass, she’s Batman now. Bruce gave it to her a few years ago, when we finally convinced him to retire. She’s the first of our child assassin converts and the third Batgirl. After that she was Black Bat for a while before Batman. Cass is pretty much a god, I’ve literally never seen her lose a fight to anyone but Dick and the two of them are the only ones who can really challenge each other when we spar.”
Tim’s finger moved to point at himself, “You know me, Red Robin and Robin number three.” He quickly moved on to the final woman in the picture, “That’s Steph, she’s Spoiler and she was also Batgirl two and Robin 3.5.” Peter mouthed the words 3.5 to himself, “She loves waffles and she can be scarily manipulative sometimes. She also hit me in the face with a brick the first time we met and we dated for a while.”
Tim’s finger moved to point to a young black man, “That’s Duke. He’s Signal and also the only daytime bat. He’s an honorary Robin because he led a gang once.” Peter squinted, why would leading a gang would make Duke an honorary Robin?
Tim continued on to the next person, “That’s Damian, aka. the Demon Brat, but he’s nicer now, so the title’s not as literal anymore. He’s our other reformed child assassin. He’s Flamebird and works in Bludhaven with Dick most of the time, but before Bruce retired he split his time between being Flamebird and Robin. He also tried to kill me for a while like Jason. He loves animals and threatens to stab people a lot, but that threat’s mostly empty these days.”
Peter couldn’t stop himself anymore, “These days!”
Tim shrugged, “To be fair, I did provoke him a lot.” Peter massaged the bridge of his nose. With every word from Tim’s mouth, Neal Caffery made more and more sense.