Tim Wayne(Robin) (red_bird) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2010-02-23 01:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | clark kent |
Who: Clark and Tim
What: down time.
When: Monday evening.
Where: Tim's place.
Warnings: probably none, no more crazy for Tim. =D. yayz.
Tim probably could have asked anyone for their opinion on what he'd spent the last few hours of free time making for Kara. But he wanted Clarks. He trusted him. It also helped that Clark reminded him of home. His best friend was Kon-El. The Kryptonian clone. Trained by Superman. One day Clark would be Supes. He resisted it now, but really how much longer could he?..he was twenty two. He was helping people. The Clark that Tim knew was maybe only twenty four. Twenty six at the most in human years. Age profiling Kryptonians wasn't his strong suit. Or Tamaranians for that matter. Aliens in general really. From what he understood about their DNA they could be a hundred and still look twenty. He didn't want to call on Clark every time something world ending was going on. They were friends in his world. He hoped they could be that way in this one too. Batman and the Justice League weren't there, everything was different. But in all they seemed to clique decently. Clark told him he could confide in him, and Tim felt like he actually could. Weather it be Kansas, or Gotham, or Bludhaven. Confiding in anyone was a rarity for the youngest member of the Bat clan. A very deep part of him was hoping he didn't make a mistake in agreeing to it. A doubt he wished would go away but knew never would. Part of being raise and trained by the King of Paranoia Himself.
He was focused on a tiny charm he'd been working at on his small desk in his living room. The shape was a tiny Shield of El out of a thin glistening elegant silver material. It was thin and delicate sheet of sterling silver. Tim had steady hands and a cheap jewelry saw to work with. It was meant for a necklace or charm bracelet. It had a jump ring on it and shimmered in a fancy way when light hit in in different angles thanks to intricate marks in the metal. Also on the desk there were several sharp R shaped objects, and batterangs. Ones with enough edge and enough weight to stick into a brick wall if thrown fast enough. His unofficial work room was piled with blueprints of bat tools, and other assorted homework assignments. Advanced Trigonometry and Genetics. He was a little on the messy side as far as papers and tool mixing went. But it was an organized mess. In the background he had his ipod playing on a small speaker set through his computer set open on the coffee table a few feet behind him. The Clash of coarse.