riverviewlogs | Log: You and me... we're in this together now.

Tim shrugged, eying Jason's state of... well, sweat. It wasn't like they didn't all have their fair share of nightmares, but Jason in particular... he was pretty sure Jason remembered dying.

"Better me than someone else. And it didn't seem like you were appreciating the head show." He leaned against the bedroom windowsill. Good thing he hadn't decided to come in through there this time.

He was completely right, Jason had relived his death in his dreams again... as he so often does. Even worse, he remembers coming back before the brain damage really seemed to kick in. That gets him pretty bad to. His dreams are rarely pleasant.

"Everyone else knows better." He grumbled as he started to rub his face some and slipped off the bed, at least he was wearing sweat pants. Popping his shoulders he gave Tim a flat look. Oh, if Tim had come through the bedroom window he would have been shot. Hands down. "Thanks for that, I guess. You tell anyone about this and I'll shot you."

Tim raised his brows a bit, invisible as they were under the cowl. "'Everyone knows better' or did you just not tell them where you live? I couldn't help but notice how soundproof these walls are." He knocked on said wall, but the sound was muffled.

"So this can't be the first time. Have they been getting any worse?"

Tim snorted at that. "If I was afraid of guns I wouldn't have taken this job."

"I just moved here before Dick took off, everyone on the floor I lived before knew better. I nearly killed one of the old roommates." He grumbled, not proud of that at all. Moving with the elegant steps of a sleep deprived dead man, he moved towards the kitchen, not wanting to keep Tim in the space where he sleeps... but more just wanting away from it himself.

"Don't Analyze me, Timbo. It's to fucking early for that." Not that it was early at all. Yet, he did answer in a way saying its happened enough that people knew to leave him alone. "That is part of the be Batman's bird questionnaire isn't it?" Another note of bitterness as he dropped on the couch and kicked the foot up. His living space was pretty immaculate compared to last time.

Tim winced. Nearly killing your roommates definitely wasn't a good start. He watched Jason shuffle like the zombie he was over to the kitchen, using the time to check his bedside trash. Nothing too suspicious. No paraphernalia, either.

"Sorry, that part of my brain's hardwired." He followed Jason to the kitchen. It was probably a good thing that there was a lot less booze around, but if Jason wasn't using any of those as a crutch, something would give sooner than later. It seemed like Jason was particularly stressed- he wasn't even giving him the usual shit-eating grin. The situation really was bad. And here he was, the absolute worst bird to deal with it. Except maybe if Damian was having a bad day. What did he really know about this Jason, after all?

Still. "I'm pretty sure it's right next to 'abandon all hope all ye who enter here', but I'm a little rusty." He perched on the back of a chair, eyes roaming over the neatened space. Of course, Jason had been spending more time at the house with Damian and Jon, too. That could account for the clean counters. "Any food in the fridge?" Food would be good for Jason, too, right?

Edited (typo) 2018-02-17 12:05 (UTC)

A single crushed beer can and a few ashes on the edge, like he had used it as a ash tray. And mostly just notes crumbled up. Nothing to bad. And he's sure Tim's tore his place apart enough by now ot know without a doubt that he is smoking again. So, why bother around Tim?

"I know, we all are." He grumbled as he set the coffee pot to start brewing before leaning on the counter at an awkward angle to place his forehead on the cool tile. He was to tired and a little trapped in his head to give his usual grins or hold his shields up. But Tim's responce got a chuckle out of him. "I'm going to carve that shit into the front door." He did love Dante's works.

Tim would come to learn in time, this Jason was a bit OCD, he couldn't stand a mess in his living space. It was just one of those issues that had popped up that he ignores like the rest. "Not in here, but in the main kitchen... why, you hungry, Timbo?" He finally pushed himself up and popped his neck. "Come on, I'll show you where it is, and make you something. Do me a favor go grab my shirt off the bed."

Watching Jason cool off on the Tile oddly reminded Tim of a dog on a hot day. He blinked the thought away. It was still taking some adjustment but he was generally okay with a much friendlier Jason.

"Or you could just tack a photo of your face up," Tim bantered lightly, going back to fetch Jason's shirt. He balled it up and tossed it over. It was kind of nice to know Jason had standards in the kitchen- Alfred would have approved.

"The only thing I know how to cook is soup and I'm getting sick of knock-off Campbell's," Tim said entreatingly. He wasn't hungry, but he'd take any distraction.

Jason still had his street ways when he didn't care who was watching. Sometimes he cared, with Tim not so much. Family was family after all.

Catching the shirt he pulled it back on, and ironically snatched his jeans off the back of the couch as he moved for the door. As clean as everything was, that's where he left his pants after he got in that morning. He spent most of his time around Alfred so he tended to follow the mans standard for a lot of things when it came to the domestic side of living.

"Jesus christ, Timbo... for fucks sake, come on, I'll make you some eggs." After making breakfast after the ball, he wonders if Tim's learned his dark secret, that he enjoys cooking as his way of keeping Alfred around. Alfred wasn't dead, but Jason figured he'd never see the man again.

Tim followed Jason to the main kitchen- a main kitchen, like this was a professional place. He might not know everything about this Jason but he was starting to get some ideas.

"Eggs sound great." He made a beeline for the fridge, checking its contents for anything to drink. Coffee was an old friend, but he had enough energy for the first time in years. "When did you learn to get so handy?"

The main Kitchen was fancy, and matched the rest of the big open space.

Jason was tugging his jeans the rest of the way on, as he made his way to the sink and washed his hands, leaving the water running a second so he could run his hands through what left of his hair after its recent under cut style, to slick it back before washing his hands again and turning to pull up a pan and a bag of bread for some toast.

Once he had the pan he tossed a bit of olive oil in the pan to let it slowly head, before patting his pockets finding his phone mostly dead in the pocket as he placed it on the speakers, it was a pretty new for his time iPhone, setting it to play some old fitting classic rock while he started getting things ready.

"Grab me the milk and eggs while your in there." The fridge was likely more packed than expected. There was a few types of juices, a ton of energy drinks and a single six pack becuase Jason spends a bit of time in the kitchen. "I've always known how, Timbo, I just never had a reason to be useful before." He grumbled even if he wasn't really bothered by it.

Edited 2018-02-20 15:00 (UTC)

Tim got the requested items out, picking out the healthiest looking juice from the selection, and moved all the items to the pristine counter as the music amped up. Rock music breakfast- it sounded like a food channel show.

"You mean you've purposefully been eating nothing but beer and chips because you didn't think eating well was useful?" Tim raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn't like he was much better, but he was starting to realize how many problems Jason had.

The music was to fill in the vast quiet of the apartment's kitchen. Jason knew if people were even there they were asleep or working, so it was to just fill the air. He moved and pulled down a mixing bowl and grabbed some seasoning to starting to crack eggs one handed to show off, at least until a bit of shell fell in, then he used the bigger shell to fish it out, mixing in some milk and seasoning and whipped them up.

"I happen to enjoy beer and chips. Its the breakfast of champions, thank you, Timbo." He grumbled, without much bite. Truth was he didn't care to admit that his moods effected his energy levels at times. There were days that getting out of bed was a challenge.

"This 'breakfast of champions' sounds an awful lot like a recipe for 'pot belly'," Tim observed. Then again, look at Dick. He still wasn't sure where all that sugar went.

He sipped at his juice- acai berry sludge, or something very similar. Man, the price one paid for one little assassin stab. He grimaced a bit. He peers over at Jason's workstation, curious. "Not like I wouldn't eat it, but...Is that hygienic?"

Dick was like an ADHD kid, boundless energy he burns it off. Jason's weight went all to his thighs clearly. "Please, I have at least another decade before that catches up with me, and I'll be dead again by then." He teased, even if it was a depressing thought he didn't exactly see himself living to a ripe old age.

"Yes it is, but humor me. Why do you ask?" He quuestion as he poured the egg mixture into the pan, sitting the bowl and shook the pan a little to keep it from sticking.

"I don't know, B's lived this long. He's what, fifty?" It was kind of hard to carbon date Batman when he kept going on intergalactic and time-hopping adventures.

"I heard most of the bacteria is on the shells. Feces and all that." Tim sipped slowly at his juice. At least it was cold. He moved around the counter to peer at Jason's work. Maybe pick up how to make a hot breakfast.

"...I dont actually know, but then again keeping up with my own age is hard enough, Timbers." He admitted as he worked on keeping everything from sticking while he spoke to Tim.

"...and while that is a fact, probably, I doubt anyone's gotten sick from it. And most eggs are heavily washed before we ever buy them. Its how I learned it, its how I do it." He made a quick pull of the pain flipping the eggs, a trick he learned from Alfred in his youth.

"You really cant cook can you?"

Tim made appropriate impressed noises at the pan flip. "Pretty much. Dana-- my stepmom, she taught me how to make chicken soup, once." The thought of her made him sligtly wistful. Things seemed a lot simpler back then.

"I figured I'd get take out, some vitamin boosters, and hope for the best." It had been nice having Alfred's meals in the penthouse, but it wasn't like he could stay there. "When did you learn how to cook?"

He arched a brow at Tim, before reaching for the coffee, he totally had remembered to make and doctor up, taking a drink he listened to Tim. "Chicken soup is a good way to start, I know how to make Alfred's chicken soup, he made me learn when he realized I wouldn't call him whenever I get sick." He shrugged some. "But, yeah same idea, mom's are where that starts."

He wasn't sure if this Tim had the same life as his Tim, but he's sure their dead. Tragedy always gets the birds.

The coffee was set aside as he lifted started to stir the eggs to scrabble them. "I learned to cook from my mom, kind of. I watched her and learned what i could, I had to. She spent so much time checked out that someone had to keep us fed. Willis always expected food when he got home and well... Mom was in no shape." He defended her still, even years later. He didn't want to just use her name. Catherine didn't get downgraded just because she wasn't his birth mother. He had always loved her, always would.

"Alfred taught you how to make chicken soup?" He'd never spent a lot of time in the kitchen when he was in the manor-- usually too tired or scrambling to change out of his uniform and get back home. Nowadays, he kind of wished he had.

"I think she never really knew what to do with me. The cooking lesson helped." He'd never held anything against Dana- especially after his dad died and left her in shock. But he couldn't say they were close. Janet Drake was a hazy figure in his mind, impressed upon things more than feelings. The scent of her perfume. The small sculptures she'd brought back from trips abroad. The ghostly imprint of her manicured fingers at his shoulder.

He nodded at the story, figuring Jason wouldn't welcome sympathy. "It's kind of like having an everyday way to remember her by. You're a lot better than I ever got to be, though."

"When B took me in, he didn't have a lot of time." Probably mostly due to his iritation of what had happened with Dick... "I mostly got stuck with Alfred." Which was why the old man could convince Jason to do more than anyone else in the family. He adored that old man. "I already knew the fundamentals he just helped refine the skill." He added another shrug as he pulled down a plate and poured the eggs on and put some bread in the toaster. The plate sat by Tim as he moved to make some more eggs for himself. These not scrambled but just broken inside of the pan to make simple easy eggs.

"I think it's a good way to help." He admitted with a shrug. "It helped with me and Alfred." He admitted, turning down the burner.

Tim was right, Jason's pride would not allow sympathy. He was tired of being pitied. "Actually it's pretty depressing, but, it's a useful skill so I pretend it doesn't bother me." He admitted as he flipped his eggs and then took a drink of coffee. "I was like eight, Timbo, knowing mom was passed out in the bathroom and that Willis would snap if he came in and found me on a chair making whatever I could so he wouldn't scream at her. It was my job to protect her, even if it meant doing the stuff Willis screamed at me not to do." He explained without sounding upset. It was easier for him to talk about it since meeting Ed. Ed got him to open up more about his youth.

Tim was surprised Jason was ready to talk that much about it. He found and set out forks for them both and poked at one of the eggs as he leaned against the counter. Part of him was always half-expecting Mrs.Mac to tell him to sit down like a decent person even as he did.

He wasn't surprised Bruce had been absentee a lot- he was likely still dealing with the blowback from Dick leaving, assuming the chain of events was the same in their world. He hadn't gone too far into detail in Jason's life prior to becoming Robin, but 'Willis' was a name that he'd found logged in the Bat Computer.

"...I'd offer to get you a beer but I think you already got that taken care of." He inclined his head towards Jason's 'coffee'. Not that it was healthy, but it seemed like that kind of conversation.

"So how do you feel about cooking now? Just practical?"

Jason didn't care if Tim sat or stood, he had a bad habit of eating at the computer with his feet propped up. So, he'd be the last to judge that. Bruce really needed to lock that Willis file down, namely after how Jason had lashed out when he found it himself, but what he doesn't know doesn't hurt him.

"I'm not going Irish this morning, I have work tonight and a meeting later today." He corrected his brother and head the cup over in case he wanted to double check. Though the look on his eye was more of a challenge than not. "Its practical, more so when my worlds Tim, and Barbie tend to watch cameras and I prefer to not have everyone know where I am staying so, cooking helps." He shrugged his shoulders. "and its easier with Damian's diet."

Log: You and me... we're in this together now.

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