at every customer service job i’ve worked at, during the initial introduction and workplace tour there’s always that moment where it stops being a professional ‘this is our workplace and these are the rules’ intro and becomes the ‘this is hell and these are the corners we can get away with cutting’ tour, i.e ‘this is the cupboard we go to sit and cry in during bad days’ and ‘you aren’t supposed to steal but we get minimum wage so nobody gives a shit if you take a handful of biscuits’.
with that in mind. Tim showing Damian the ropes of being Robin.
Tim: so after patrol you’re supposed to do a nightly report of any incidents at the batcomputer, i’ll show you the login and how the system works…
Bruce: *nods in satisfaction and walks away*
Tim, the second they’re alone: ok so to be honest you’re supposed to do it at the batcomputer so it’s thorough but none of us can be fucked with that so what we usually do is just keep a note on our phones of any major incidents and then on the way back to the cave we send a screenshot of it to Oracle and she inputs it remotely, it saves you like half an hour every night.
Tim: this is the weapon storage centre; at the end of the night every bat tool has to be accounted for and scanned into the system.
Damian: everything is to be returned to here?
Tim: yeah, Bruce’s orders. but what we haven’t told B is that Dick broke the scanning system years ago so if you want to nick a cool knife or grapple gun for everyday use then you can literally scan, like, an apple or something, and input the code as the item you’re stealing and Bruce never notices.
Tim: i scanned a sharpie instead of a flamethrower i was supposed to return one night. Bruce still doesn’t know it’s in my school backpack.
Tim: this is the usual patrol route; that’s where we usually get to rest for fifteen minutes, by that 7-11 down there, and over in that alley there’s a really secluded abandoned balcony that no civilians can see.
Tim: that’s where we go during rough nights when we want to cry or stare into space for a few minutes.
Tim: if you hurt a rogue too badly you’re supposed to log the injuries inflicted on them to Bruce’s online files so he gets flagged by any major incidents, but Jason figured out that if you tag the injury as ‘light skin trauma’ it will register in the system as a scratch and automatically get put in the ‘unimportant’ file which Bruce isn’t notified by. So even if you stab Scarecrow in the neck, as long as you tag it as ‘light skin trauma with metal implement’ Bruce won’t see it.
Tim: the same applies to our own injury reports, so like, if you ever can’t be fucked with having to sit still and be examined in the medbay after a busy patrol, that’s how you get around him knowing you’re hurt.
Tim: there’s supposed to be a limit on the amount of training you can do per day to stop us from ‘over doing it’ but if you time your workout to the evenings where Bruce works on the batmobile, then he never remembers to keep an eye on the timer and we get like an extra hour.
Tim: this is the only chandelier in the manor that Alfred can’t get to to clean it, so he relies on us to swing up and polish it every now and then. So if you smoke, up there is where Jason hides his stash.
Tim: Jason started when he was ten, i dont know.
Tim: you’re supposed to take water with you on patrol so we all have our own bottles that attach to the belt. Bruce checks that we have it but not what’s inside it, so you can fill it up with whatever. i usually go for coffee. one time Jason and Dick split a pint of margaritas in theirs and tried to see who could drink and swing the best. Dick hit a lamppost.
Damian: …well yes. the pit enhanced Todd’s metabolism, so alcohol rarely will effect him.
Tim: that sneaky motherfucker
Tim, turning away: DICK GUESS WHAT-
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