Tim Red Robin eyes the asylum, pale blue eyes narrowed. He, like most of the bats, avoids anything to do with Arkham like the plague. He knows it's a poor habit, but it's one that is hard to shake.
"Doctor... Dr. Arkham, was it? I would apologize for the time, but I can't say this visit is a surprise. I was told you had information regarding Scarecrow's most recent attacks? Something about his deteriorating motives?"
He questions, ignoring how much he hates to be in this situation. Forced to enter the asylum as a guest rather than as a hero, but desperate times---such as the twelve bodies they recovered last night---calls for desperate measures.
Jeremiah had heard the chime — the calling card of reception calling him once again, in the midst of the night. The doctor could not help the sigh, dropping his pen onto his desk and standing.
He fixed a pleasant smile on his face, walking down to the front desk. A smile that immediately dropped upon seeing Red Robin standing before him.
The doctor sighed, idly noting that he would need to talk to his security about the dangers of letting in pests.
His eyes flicked up and down, regarding the boy with a look that was all too similar to disgust and boredom — and yet, his tone remained pleasant.
“I find your entry into my hospital at these god awful hours to be rather presumptuous.”
Was it a flock habit? Knocking on his door, saying ‘trick-or-treat’ and expecting him to give out classified information like Halloween candy?
“Your chiropteran friend has already lectured me once* today on matters far out of my control.”
“Is that… that terrorist from the news? I have not been blessed with a call from the GCPD yet telling me to open the gates and allow their brigade in. No, I do not have any knowledge on him.
“I have my theories, of course, as I am certain he will end up in my institute. But nothing intimate.”
