youlittleshit | (no subject)

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[Normally, Tim works through any illnesses. He's used to working through pain, so some fatigue and a runny nose won't stop him. However, influenza is a tough opponent. At least this time, he has Dick's assurance that Gotham will be fine and he can lay around in bed until the worst of the symptoms go away. And that's exactly what he's doing.

His huge bed at Wayne manor has three tissue boxes resting on it and a plastic bag to hold the dirty tissues now that his bedside garbage is full. The TV across from him is tuned into some soap opera that he only attempts to follow as he tries not to fall asleep again. All in all, he looks miserable.]

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Dude. You look terrible.

[When he heard Conner's voice, he closes his eyes and represses a sigh. He appreciates him coming to visit while he's sick, but he's not sure if he has the energy to handle him right now. When he answers, his voice is nasally and quiet.]

How did you get in here?

A big bird opened the door for me.

What's up, Tim? I didn't know Bats could get sick.

[He groans.] Dick.

Contrary to popular belief, Batman didn't think it was necessary to develop a cure for the flu virus.

Clearly, he enjoys seeing you like this as much as I do.

Are you sure you're not faking this? Doesn't really seem like you are that warm...

[Tim narrows his eyes, but it doesn't look nearly as threatening as he would like when he's sick and clutching a wad of crumpled tissues.]

I can still punch you.

It would still not hurt me much.

Whatever. [He pauses to sniffle.]

Did you come here just to insult me?

I'm offended, I came here to cheer you up and make you feel better. I entered a mined field entering in this house, since as soon as Bruce finds me I might as well be dead, and this is how you repay me? Laaaaame.

What do you want me to do? Share my tissues with you?

Nah, just sit tight there and let me annoy you to death. I won't ask for anything else.

[He grinds his head back into the pillow and closes his eyes, though there's a small smile on his face.] Then lay down so I don't have to crane my neck to look at you.

Nevermind what I said before, you're totally delirious. What are you watching?

Dick put the TV on and the remote fell on the floor. It's strangely captivating.

... Well at least it's not Oprah.

Don't you have PS2 or Xbox lying around here? We could play a bit. My death is near I want to at least die knowing I can beat you at Tekken or something like that.

It doesn't count if I'm delirious when you win. But I think there's one in the cabinet under the TV. [As he talks, he slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position.]

Dibs on Demoman.

Whatever. You're going down anyway. [A tired smirk as he takes the controller.]

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