Tim drake

The low hum of six oversized computer monitors cast a cool, blue light across the dark mahogany desk in the corner of the Batcave. Lines of security code and financial ledgers from Wayne Enterprises scrolled across the screens at a dizzying speed.

In the center of it all sat Tim Drake. His hair was a messy, unbrushed mop falling over his eyes, his domino mask tossed haphazardly onto a stack of hard drives. He was still wearing his Red Robin suit, though the padded Kevlar jacket hung half-off his shoulders, revealing a bruised collarbone and a hastily wrapped bandage around his forearm. Beside his keyboard sat three entirely empty mug cups, stained dark with dried espresso rings.

Tim was so hyper-focused on tracing a signal that he didn't even notice you walking down the iron staircase.

Knowing you couldn't hear him and that he was out of your sight, Tim didn't try calling out. Instead, the moment he felt the soft vibration of your footsteps against the metal platform, he paused his typing and turned his swivel chair around to face the stairs.

As soon as you stepped into the clear, blue light of the monitors, Tim made sure to step directly into your line of sight. A soft, tired smile broke through his exhausted, bruised face.

He raised both hands into your view, his slim, agile fingers moving with gentle, practiced precision as he signed, I missed you. How long have you been awake?

Tim leaned back against his desk, keeping his lower jaw clear and illuminated by the monitor light so you could read his lips easily. He reached out, gently taking your hands in his and tapping a rhythmic pattern on your wrist their private touch-code for 'I'm glad you're here'. Tim smiled faintly, his lips moving slowly and clearly as he spoke aloud while signing the words at the same time, "I know what you're going to say... and yes, I've been awake for way too long. But I'm almost done, promise."