After School Activities[Tim Drake]

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Three PM was too early. But it was a time, and a good time at that. Not that she was loitering outside the school like a creeper, but Selina Kyle in her sleek, black convertible z4 BMW was something. Even as the student's poured out of Gotham Heights, a few sets of wide eyes and finger pointing her way, it was nothing compared to the Fathers that mouth's gaped, and the Mother's that turned their noses up at her. Whatever. Rolling her eyes at the sort of mentality that really never got better when she was older, she continued to scan the masses of under five foot children, eyes looking for that one, particular, kiddo.

She'd taken care to dress appropriately for this endeavor. And thankfully, she'd set out something yesterday. With a night like she'd had, it was always better to think ahead. So her outfit of dark denim, tall black boots, thick sweater, and even warmer jacket was understatedly her. No business suits. No ball gown. No catsuit. Just, Selina. So while yes, she would take young Tim Drake off guard, it wouldn't be as bad as having to face eachother, mask to mask, costumed.

And so she'd wait. It'd be a bit of a game to see who spotted who, first.

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"Alright, alright, but -"

"No, Ives. Nuh-uh, no way."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" The redhead scoffed and pushed his glasses back up his nose and glared over at Hudson. "I think you mean yes. Sauron would take Voldemort down. No contest."

Tim ducked his head and tried not to laugh too obviously at the way his friends were glaring at each  other, the sparks that were flying almost visible.

"Sauron doesn't even have arms, dude!" Hudson squawked indignantly. "Voldemort could fire off one Avada Kadavra to that sucker and there wouldn't be a dang thing Sauron could do about it before his soul got ripped away."

"Not a thing he could - he has armies of orcs, Hudson. Ringwraiths. Sauron doesn't need arms. C'mon, Tim, back me up here! Sauron could totally take that pansy Dark Lord any day, right?"

Tim froze a little, wide-eyed, as both the taller boys stopped just inside the school doors and turned to him. He bit his lips closed to keep the smile off his face. "...Uh."

"You're the tie-breaker, man," Hudson reminded him in an almost warning tone. "Tell this carrot-top that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is the evillest magic-slinger in all of geekdom so we can move on already."

Hooooo boy. Minefield.

"Darth Vader," he answered firmly.

"Oh, come on, he's not - " Ives stopped himself and trailed off, frowning. It looked a little frustrated, and it matched the one on Hudson's face.

"He's not a wizard," Hudson finished lamely, but the protest fell kind of flat. Tim lifted both eyebrows at his friends, expectant.

Ives heaved a sigh. "Yeah, fine, you win."

"Vader would totally win anyway," Hudson agreed tiredly, and Tim grinned.

"Don't mess with the Vader," he warned his friends cheerfully, and put a hand on each of their backs to push them the final few steps into the cold winter sunshine. He let them go as they started down the school steps, hanging onto the straps of his backpack as Hudson launched into a story about his little sister's new obsession with using toilet paper as a decorating tool for her doll's tea parties. It took Tim a second to realize that yeah: the crowd of kids along the right side of the staircase was not normal. He gave his friends a nudge to call their attention to it and they all shared a baffled look before heading over to see what was up. Tim used his small size to his advantage as he squeezed through the crowd, and his jaw dropped a little as he saw what - who - everyone was gawking at.

Yelping a little, he launched himself ungracefully back out of the crowd and scrambled down the stairs, yelling apologies to Ives and Hudson over his shoulder. "Sorry, guys, gotta go; I'll talk to you tomorrow!"

Tim bolted across the lawn towards the BMW, coat flapping against his knees and scarf streaming behind him, his grip on his backpack's straps now an effort to keep the bag from jostling too much. 

"Selina! Wha- Wha- " He gaped up at the woman as he skidded to a stop in front of her, speechless for a few shocked seconds, because yes, Selina Kyle was really waiting in front of his school. "Oh my god, people are staring. Please tell me you're here for me so we can out of here; most of my school is staring and oh god, how long have you been here?! I'm going to have people stopping me in the hall for days, people are going to gossip and I have no idea how to explain you because you and Bruce are weird and I'm not good at being the center of attention, Selina, I always feel like I'm about to make an idiot of myself or start babbling. I think I'm panicking. Are you actually here for me or can I get someone for you?"

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She had to smile as the children came pouring out of the school. The little groups, the bickering, the playing. She could see why Bruce snapped them up young. They were still fresh, full of life, not jaded. So while she leaned against her car, waiting, her smile blossomed into a grin with each little group that paused, and watched; eyes large and magnified. It wasn't that she was popular, but most of the kinds would at least be familiar with the brunette. The car is probably what attracted them, more than anything. It's not like most parents picked their kids up in a car like that. So when the tow-headed boy broke from his group in an almost, barely, near panic, she had to chuckle to herself. It's not that she wanted to embarrass him, but hell. At least some of the girls would be paying a bit more attention to him, beyond the Bruce Wayne guardian/whatever he was doing.

As words tumbled out of the nearly-teen's mouth, Selina nodded, bemused at Mr. Drake. "Breath, kiddo. And yes, people are staring. That is one of many functions of these things right here-" she pointed at her own vivid green irises- "Called eyeballs. And I've been here about...3 minutes. Enough time to watch you chatter with your homeboys. And just make up something like I needed your l33t skillz or something for a project for my company. Or that Bruce is dating me, or whatever. And yes, weird happens. But just remember, I'm not the one in my underwear at night." Winking at him with a glint in her eye that only Robin would know of the feline cat-burglar, she dangled her keys in front of him. "You wanna drive, or should I? We have a few little tasks to get out of the way, Mr. Wayne is aware you're going to be with me tonight, so ....we're going to have fun." She motioned to the car with a languid turn of her head.

"Get in. I'll explain more in the car." It wasn't an option, but more do this, or you will hear the crack of my whip near something you'd rather not have it close to. A tone that only a certain tall, dark, and brooding could match in directness.

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Tim circled the car to climb into the passenger's side, obeying Selina just as easily as he did Bruce. Not that he had to be quiet about it - he'd been told to get in, not shut up.

"I can't tell them you needed my computer skills," he replied incredulously, because that was such a bad idea, seriously. He settled his backpack between his feet and buckled in. "My friends know that I'm pretty good with computers, not that I'm capable of hacking into the C.I.A. As far as anyone at school knows, you have people infinitely better qualified to help you with just about anything you could possibly need already on your payroll. Also, no one says l33t anymore. No one uses l33t anymore; I'm pretty sure it was dead before I was born."

Waaaait a second. He was going to be working with Selina tonight? Seriously? Tim wasn't sure which boggled more: that Bruce had okay-ed it... Or that Selina even wanted him tonight at all. Abruptly realizing he was starting to gape again, Tim snapped his mouth closed before it could fall too far open.

"So. Um. What are we doing?"

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Ahh. It had been years since she had been school, and wow, how things had changed. So as the kiddo climbed in, she opened her own door and slid into the driver's seat-leather, of course, and started the car, the low hum of the engine roaring to life.

"Well, I guess all of that makes sense. And I'm guessing you don't exactly brag about that little feat either?" She winked at Tim, a quick glance to make sure he was buckled in. With all that he said sometimes, she did forget at times he was only thirteen. Not a child, but not quite a full blown moody teenager, either.

Pulling away from the curb, she made sure they were well on their way before answering. "Well, I was thinking dinner, and then a bit of plotting. I need your advice, and...we're going to do a run-through." She paused, not quite knowing how to proceed.

"You pick where to eat. We can order in, go somewhere, whatever. But you're stuck with me until at least 3, and yes, I know it's a school night. But Bruce understands." And if she was truly going to take on a side-kick, she had to make sure she knew how it went.

"I may have someone that will be joining me. And I wanted to pick your brain on the topic. Considering Dick is...well, off doing his own thing, and Jason is..well...." She shrugged. "I need you to key me in on partnerships." It was almost painful for her to admit she didn't quite know how team-ups went. Or sidekicks. Or how the hell Bruce, of all people had been able to obtain, and retain at least three of them, one of them at least succeeding to adulthood so far.

"Any questions?"She knew their would be, the statement offered as a courtesy.

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Ooooh, okay. Tim hadn't been her first choice, then, just the only one available. Things made so much more sense now.

"Well..." he started slowly, brow furrowing a little as he debated what skills and knowledge he had to offer her. "I certainly don't mind helping you. I just... I'm not sure how well I'll do? I mean, it's - I'm a decent Robin, and I'll do until someone better steps up, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't really mean I'm qualified to tell you what you want to know. I'll try my best, though. And don't worry about the school night thing; it's not issue, really."

Bruce usually tried to send him home from patrol early enough for him to get some sleep on weeknights, but things happened. Tim had been to school without any sleep at all on more than one occasion. He'd just learned to compensate with a nap between finishing his homework and the beginning of patrol on those days, and everything settled out fine. 

Frankly, three a.m. was an early night, as far as Tim was concerned.

"So... I guess the only real question I have right now is about what it is we're supposed to be plotting or running through." Tim had his laptop with him, so he could accommodate pretty much anything in that direction, but if it sounded like something they'd need to go over blueprints for, he'd advocate just ordering in. This would be a working dinner, he assumed, so either way - something easy to eat one handed? He could type with one hand and work with the other.

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His tells were saying more than his words were. "Oh Tim. I don't want Dick or Jason. Nor Bruce. I need...you. Someone your age, your wit. Your...spunk. The others wouldn't work. Trust me on that. I'm not just settling on you. It's more of a test drive." Ok, that went...somewhat decently, even if she had the nagging feeling they weren't quite on the same page about something.

Watching the road, she easily merged with traffic, contemplating where to eat. "Sushi work? We can have it delivered. We're headed to my place." He could use her computer systems if need be. And by her place..she didn't mean her home..but one of her own, well, she didn't like calling them 'hideouts' per se, even if that is what it really was.

"I need to see if I can work well with someone else. Plotting wise...I just need to pick your brain on what Bruce makes you do. Or, well, Batman. Asking him would be a shitstorm, and I just can't deal with him when he gets in dictate mode." Fishing her phone out of her purse, she tossed it to Tim. "Call, and order what you want, then I'll order."

What else did she need to explain to him? Contemplating this as they entered the warehouse district, Selina sighed. "Other than working out, and weapons, and school?" She was at a loss, considering most of the time she worked alone. What use would having a 'sidekick' be? Considering her own motives were...quite different than obtaining criminals. She had worked for others, but truly never done a partnership. Unless you call Batman telling her what she would, and would not be doing when they 'worked' together. And he drugged her and then toted her to China.

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“Okay,” Tim agreed, catching the cell phone easily. He glanced out to the city streets, figuring out where they were and about where they were headed, then flipping through a mental rolodex of good Japanese places nearby while he continued, “being a test run should definitely be within my capabilities. And I don’t think I’ll need too much oversight on your part; my training should translate well enough that I should be able to keep up.”

He hit the ‘send’ button and lifted the phone to his ear, tilting his head to give her a cheeky, mischievous grin even though his chin was tucked shyly. “Though if you want to show me any new tricks to picking locks faster, I won’t argue. I still can’t do it in less than a minute with the way that B taught me.”

And he’d been practicing a lot. If anyone could help him with that, it was Selina. His attention caught as the other end of the line picked up, and Tim turned away again as he put in his order. It still seemed imminently strange to him that she would want him for this, he mused privately as he passed the phone over with a small smile. Nice, though. No matter whether she’d chosen him first or last, just the fact that Selina thought him competent enough to do the job was warming. The woman was a professional, after all, and he didn’t think for a second that she wouldn’t have found another option if she didn’t think he could manage. Even if this ended up being nothing but the basics, Tim would do his best for her, same as he did for Bruce.

Doing less than that just wasn’t in him.

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Selina nodded, realizing she probably needed to fill him in a bit more. "Why I need you, and you specifically is for a number of reasons. You're closer in age, you've got the same spunk...as my possible sidekick. So while you can use the training he's taught you, I'm still going to need to pick your brain on what he's made you do. It's more a trial run on how I work well with someone else. Considering I'm not known to have someone with me." It was hard to chew through those words, and she hoped Bruce hadn't quite yet filled Tim in on Charlotte yet. It would get there. She just wanted to make sure things were in place, before she invited the teen to that new world. Not to mention she wasn't exactly a 'team player.' Last time she'd teamed up with anyone, she'd been...pretty much forced to.

Laughing as he futzed with her phone, she shook her head. "He goes about it an entirely different way than I do. And the lock really matters, too. Two tumbler, three. Electronic, or old school. And I'd have to see the picks he's having you use. Years of practice have given me a bit of an advantage, and I doubt he has the same tools I use." Hopefully Bruce would see the benefit of talking to her more about the skills she had. A bit of cross training wouldn't harm any of them.

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Selina was considering taking on a partner? Seriously? Who? Why? No one had mentioned it to him, though it wasn't like there was any obligation to -  And had Selina really asked Bruce for him tonight? Like, for real? She hadn't just ended up with him? Who did that? Sure, okay, if her prospective partner was close to his age, it made some practical sense, but - Just. Yeah, okay. Practical sense and availability. That was reasonable. 

Someone near his age? Really?

Abruptly realizing he was starting to gape at the woman, Tim closed his mouth with a sharp click. Whoa. When Selina had said that talking to Bruce would cause trouble, Tim had thought she’d been talking about how secretive Bruce could sometimes be, not… Getting a partner. This had the potential to turn out so badly.

Oh, man. 

“I’ve, um. Got my lock picks in my gear. I’ll show ‘em to you when we get to your safe house,” Tim managed, only a little haltingly. He was kind of proud of himself for that. And the lock picks were a good distraction for – Oh. Selina wouldn’t have time to teach him, would she, if she decided she was going to take that person on? She’d be so busy training them, and Tim couldn’t be a bother. “I’ll ask Alfred about getting a new set if they’re no good.”

He knew the basics, after all. If Selina could just make a recommendation or something, he was pretty sure he could figure out how to improve his time through trial and error. It would take some extra practice, but so what? It would take extra practice anyway. The only difference would be not having a teacher, and it wasn’t like Tim wasn’t used to that, so no big deal there.

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As she spoke, the pre-teen's mouth dropped. Selina reached out a finger to gently ease his jaw upward again, quietly saying, "Catching flies is not a good look for you, Tim. And yes, to clarify, I did ask for you, and yes, I have a prospective partner. From your shock and awe, and dropped jaw, and my experience with Batman, and Bruce, I do have to say his stoic demeanor is not rubbing off on you."

It was a turn here, a turn there, and she parked her car, getting out and entering a building in Gotham that was pretty ...nondescript. "And it's a lair. Or a hideout when you're on my side of the fence. No 'safehouse' in my dictionary." With a wink, she waited for him to join her before making her way to the stairs and thinking over the fact he was going to ask Alfred, of all people, to get him a new set? Interesting.

It was five floors up before she brandished a key and opened the door into a rather normal looking apartment. Save for most of it was done in muted purples, shades of grey, and black, it was normal. There was a small kitchenette, as well as a tv, couch, table, and everything else one would expect in a home. Save for this was Catwoman's home.

Setting her purse down on the counter, she drifted off into a separate room, before re-emerging with three lock sets, setting those down and re-picking up her phone, and checking their dinner order. They'd have a good half hour before it was there.

"Ok. Break out your set, I'd like to see what you've been working with." Waving her hand to invite him over, she sat on one of the three stools before the counter, curious to see what he'd do.

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Tim set his backpack on the floor while he looked around with interest, slipping out of his shoes and setting them neatly by the door almost absently. He shouldered out his jacket and hung it up, jumping back to attention when Selina beckoned him. Dropping to his knees, Tim dug into his bag for the hidden compartment where his uniform was stored and quickly found the pouch on his belt where his picks were. Pulling them out, he zipped his bag closed again and trotted over to the counter to offer the set to Selina.

"Here. These are the ones B gave me." Tim waited until she'd accepted the picks, then braced a hand on the counter top and jumped up onto one of the stools. He really, really couldn't wait for his growth spurt. He canted his head curiously. "Why is a lair or a hideout, but not a safe house? Aren't they all kind of the same thing?"

 Or... Well, maybe a lair was a little different. The Cave was sort of a secret lair, but Tim wouldn't really call it a hideout or safe house. It was the Cave. You couldn't go around calling the Cave a 'hideout'. And the Manor was the house. Tim was pretty sure Alfred wouldn't stand for anyone trying to live in the Cave. Not even Bruce. 

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Brandishing her own set of picks, she set them side by side once Tim had joined her. It was quite the thing to watch him hang up his jacket, take off his shoes, all of it. Either he'd been already taught good manners, or Alfred had gotten ahold of him somewhere. It made her smile.

Taking the picks he offered, she raised a brow. They weren't bad, but they were missing a few that she had found helped in addition. Pointing out the differences between her set, and the Batman's, she watched to see if he would pick up on the differences. But he offered a good question to her that trumped lock pick differentials.

"Well," she started, mulling the question over. "It comes down to who uses what words. Which side of the fence you're on, to a degree. Some of the Rogue's have safehouses, but most have lairs, which is more a place to plot and plan. A safehouse is more...like a panic room, to a degree. And depending on your level of confidence in self, and in your antics, some would never admit to even the necessity of a 'safehouse.' A hideout could be interchangeable to a lair, but a hideout is more, well, one could say akin to a clubhouse. Me? I'd never need a safe house, but I definitely have a lair or two, but not a hideout." And it wasn't because she was overconfident, it was more that she just...wasn't the confrontational sort when she suited up.

And considering the shift of her work as of late, she doubted she'd need one in the future, either. "What we're doing now really can't be done in public, otherwise questions arise that neither of us really want to ask. Me picking you up from school? Shocking, but logistically sound. Us going over locks in public? Not so much. But..." As she swiftly changed subjects, she pointed out two of her own picks that his set did not have.

"These two are just replica's of these two, because sometimes there are more complicated tumblers, so, extras help. But this one here," she motioned to another, different looking one. "This one will take your time down from over one minute, to about fourty-five seconds or less, depending. That is the magic trick. Make sure Bruce isn't palming one when he unlocks something, because I honestly wouldn't put it past him as a motivatonal tool to get you inspired."

And while she could see the advantages in that sort of method, it probably wasn't the sort of thing she'd want to utilize with Charlotte. A bit deceptive.

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"I don't think he is hiding anything from me," Tim reported distractedly, busy studying the sets of lock picks that Selina had set out intently, picking them up for a better view every so often. "He wants me to learn to do it quickly, and concealing a step or necessary tool would be counter-productive to that goal. Besides, B doesn't go in for that kind of motivation anyway."

He made a few mental notes about what to ask Alfred as he turned the new pick that Selina had introduced him to between his fingers. Hm. He was pretty sure he knew how this one was used, but he'd need to try it out to be sure. Trial and error, but that was how these things worked. If he was wrong, he'd just have to try again. If he brought some practice locks up to his room and activated the speech controls on his laptop, then he could practice while he did his homework and stuff; maximize his practice time.

"I know what's appropriate for the public to know and what I should hide, though, Selina," Tim assured the woman, finally looking up. He smiled at her. "Promise. I've been keeping secrets for a long time. So don't worry about me asking about picking locks or pick-pocketing or anything like that when civilians are around."

He paused for a second, then added gently, "And on my side of the fence, a safe house is just a place where you can stop and breath and be safe for a while, so you can eat and sleep and patch yourself up when you need to. Maybe, since you're on the fence now, instead of a particular side, safe houses don't have to be so bad?"

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She couldn't help but laugh at that. She motioned to herself as if to hammer the point home. Then again, Tim was bright for a kid, so perhaps Bruce hadn't quite lied about who he had been seeing.

"He might not be doing it on purpose, keep that in mind. And he sometimes has a peculiar way of viewing truth." It was true. But what Tim was telling her was eye-opening as well. It spoke more about the man she knew quite intimately, than she thought.

Scooting off her stool as Tim looked on her tools, she slid a lock toward him as she walked to the fridge, and pulled out two bottles of water. "Food should be here soon. Let's see if you can crack those in time." They looked similar from the outside, but within, they were not.

"Your choice, too. Your set, or mine," she added, setting a bottle at his elbow before returning to her seat. She couldn't help but smile when he reassured her. "Oh, trust me, Tim. I don't doubt that at all. It's just more a mindset. And hell, pick-pocketing is a usefull skill around civillians. Just not a noble one." Winking at him, she didn't doubt a word he said. Shit, he was only thirteen and Batman's sidekick. At thirteen, she was still with her parents.

His quiet works brought her back to the tasks at hand. He certainly was Bruce's boy. If not by nature, he was by nurture. "From where I stand, I can see both, hon. It's just words to either side, to be honest, and up until a few months ago, I'd had more experience playing on one side, than the other. To me, a 'safehouse' is truly where one lives. I eat, and sleep, and recuperate at home, not somewhere that has a particular denotation for safety." Perceptive little git, he was. Even he'd noted her shift. And unless she was in some sort of terms with Batman, truthfully there would be no having him here, whatsoever.