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"Jan, honey," Jack said slowly, looking at that week's special volume of the Gotham Gazette, the annual Cape Review. It had been getting a lot of buzz in the run-up to publication, because of the hype about the New Robin, and the hints that the paper had managed to get a halfway decent photo.
No one ever got halfway decent photos of the vigilantes, but Jack could respect the dedication.
"Yeah?" Janet yelled back. She was still down in the pit, wedged between the bases to two collapsed stele, trying to get a rubbing of the engraving.
"When you have a moment, can you come see this?" Jack asked, tilting his head. It was not a half-decent photo, but it was a clearer picture than anyone else had gotten of the New Robin.
There were pants, which was nice. And this iteration of the green boots looked significantly more "shitkicker" and less "pixie" than the original.
Janet emerged from the hole, sweaty, disheveled, and gorgeous. "What is it?" she asked. She was preparing herself to be annoyed if his reason for pulling her out of the dirt wasn't good enough.
Jack silently handed her his tablet, centered on the photo of the New Robin.
"Oh," Janet said, and sat beside him on the log.
Jack sighed. "Okay, it's not just me."
"Well," Janet said. "I suppose this does feel like the next logical step."
Jack hummed agreement. "Do you think he needs anything?"
Janet examined the picture closely. "I suppose Batman is supplying all the gear he could use," she said slowly. "But perhaps more subtle photography equipment?"
"You think he's still taking pictures when he's also stopping robberies?"
Janet rolled her eyes at him. "You think he's not?" she retorted. "But his usual camera is too bulky. And I bet his," she gestures vaguely, "Mask or whatever takes snapshots of crime scenes, but I bet it's quality can't match his DSLR."
Jack inclined his head. "So, low profile, high resolution, but looks enough like a normal camera that it's not noticeable." Bruce was a deeply pragmatic man, but had not an artistic bone in his body; Jack didn't imagine it had occurred to him to continue to encourage Tim's artistic photography talents.
Janet nodded. Then she scrolled to the next photo, one of Batman and Robin, far away and blurry, landing on a rooftop in eerie unison. The picture of Bruce was not any better than the picture of Tim. Still clear enough to be obvious to Jack, though. "Highly durable," Janet added, and handed the tablet back to him.
Jack nodded. "I'll start tinkering," he said, smiling at the thought of a project. Honestly, it was Brucie's sharp interest in Jack's tinkering with winches for Drake Industries ten years ago which had first made Jack take a second look at his neighbor—no airheaded playboy looked that keenly interested in winches, even so consummate an actor as Bruce Wayne.
And once he and Janet had begun looking, there were things it was hard to unsee. Bruce Wayne's status as a highly focused weirdo was one of them. He covered it well, but the Drakes had all been highly focused weirdos for three generations, and they knew one of their own. It was what had drawn him to Janet, and it was what, in the end, cemented Bruce Wayne's status as both his and Janet's only Exception.
And made them pretty convinced he was Batman.
Janet grinned at him, soft and warm. "Our son's brilliant," she said quietly.
Jack nodded. "He is," he agreed.
"What about that amulet we found?" Janet said suddenly.
Jack hummed a question, already starting to sketch schematics on his tablet.
"In Egypt, with the magic protection. Wasn't it stabbing?"
Jack looked away from his sketch to focus. "Egypt. Magic. Yes," he said after a moment. "Protection from blades."
Janet nodded. "We should give him that, too. When we get home."
"Oh is that scheduled?" Jack wondered, only half listening as he considered lenses and scale. "Lots of people do seem to use knives," he agreed belatedly, still scowling at his sketch.
"Well," Janet said, heading back to her pit, "It could be."
Jack had a thought. "Jan," he said.
Her head popped back over the lip of the pit. "Yes?"
"Do you think— would it be easier for him if we left him with Batman?"
"What do you mean?" she asked, crossing her arms on the edge of the pit and resting her chin on them as she looked up at him.
"I know Mrs. Mac's visits never stopped him from sneaking out, and he never hesitated to blame skateboarding for any falls he took, but do you think he'd be safer if he didn't have to keep juggling identities when we're not home? Bruce could take him to the hospital with significantly fewer questions, if it came to that." Jack frowned. Tim had slipped and fallen off a few fire escapes in his years following Batman and Robin around Gotham, but never seriously injured himself. But Robin's job was significantly more dangerous than just running around on rooftops. If he needed medical attention, would he get it, or would he prioritize keeping all his different secrets?
"Oh," Janet said, tilting her head. "We could give Bruce a Caregiver Affidavit, and a medical power of attorney," Janet said. "And then leave Tim with him when we go."
Jack nodded. "Yes, that," he agreed.
Janet hummed. "I'll start the papers when we get to the hotel tonight. We could go to Gotham when we finish here?"
Jack nodded. "That sounds like a plan." He frowned at his tablet. "And we can get me a camera to tinker with when we get back to town, maybe."
Janet rolled her eyes fondly. "Tinkerer," she said fondly, and vanished back into her dirt pit.
"Grub," he replied, just as fond.