Recognized, B20

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Damian himself was also quick to cover his nose and mouth, not wanting to inhale anything containing both the words sex and pollen in its name. He narrowed his eyes at the younger teen at his words though, but did not do much aside from it because even he knew that it was indeed careless of him. Still, he felt it wasn’t right to open his mouth just yet. He knew he had already taken in a bit of the pollen, no need to add more to it. But honestly, he didn’t really feel any different.

Tim crooked two fingers, slinking off down an empty street, leaving the scene of crushed glass and broken mutant plants behind for GPD to process. He didn't envy Jim Gordon, but then, the Commissioner wasn't the only one who'd have to write up a report tonight. Tim groaned internally; the mission was a failure and Tim abhored being anything less than efficient. Fortunately, Red Robin could very fairly place blame on Damian's butter fingers.

catslovethesparkle replied to your post: Hey, birdy

Sex Pollen || thirdbirdthenerd

Tim's reaction was instantaneous. He lifted his cape to cover his mouth and nose, trying to hold his breath for as long as possible. He could actually see a sinister twinkle in the air before it winked out. He assumed Ivy was working on a more discreet method of poisoning her victims than her usual sickly yellow, thick pollen. Moving to something more aerosol based. Tim'd congratulate her, if they weren't playing on opposite teams.

He blinked, his anger cooling like heated metal dunked in ice water. Tim rubbed his arm self consciously, kneading the tight muscle with his thumb. His eyes met Jason’s. It was disconcerting to see his tiredness echoed in his older brother’s expression. Jason, whether as Robin or Red Hood, always seemed incredibly cocky, or failing that, unyielding and stubborn.

Standing there in the dilapidated remains of the Cave, Jason was quickly beginning to notice just how humid everything was without the temperature being regulated by Bruce’s sophisticated system. In the silence that lingered between them, Jason shrugged off his well-worn leather jacket and pulled his ratty t-shirt over his head along with it. He really could use a shower, and the dirt on his skin only enforced that thought.

Tim briefly wished he hadn't removed his cowl. It was much easier to stare from behind the flat white of his lenses. While Tim's photography hobby had died with his ascension to the Robin mantle, he could still remember his quickfire glee as he memorized every hard line, every graceful curve captured. Those pictures of Batman, Nightwing, and Robin were still squirreled away in one of Tim's safe houses, smeared with grime and ash. A remnant of that feeling clenched around his heart, as Jason peeled off his shirt, reveal whitened scars and hard muscle. It was probably loss, topped off with exhaustion.