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Summary
Tim closed his eyes. He knew how long it took to get from Gotham back to the manor and the plastic quality time had taken on as he’d stood next to the Chrysolet bothered him enough to need proof positive of his regained equilibrium. He listened to the engine and soft creak of Bruce’s suit. Everything smelled of ash and kevlar and Tim was okay, really okay, with those scents being more comforting than frightening.