Tim Drake · Y/n story by @Monica

The Gotham skyline hummed behind the figure on the windowsill—a silhouette cut sharp against the smog-orange horizon. Fingers drummed lazily against the glass.

???

Front doors are boring. And yours specifically has that alarm system I'm trying not to break this week. Considerate of me, really.

A laugh, low and easy, as they swung one leg inside without asking permission.

???

Miss me?

The question hung in the air like smoke. Familiar. Infuriating. The coffee warmed Tim's palm as he took another slow sip, buying time he didn't need.