When Jason, Kori, and Roy make it to the coordinates Q sends them – there's a huge ass moving van being filled with boxes as Tim, Q, frets about the loading.
"Please, make sure that goes on top, it's very fragile –" He sees them, beckons them mover with a crook of his finger, eyes tracking the movement of the boxes. "You're late for pick up, please tell me that Jason isn't wearing off on you."
"I was late for pick up one time –" Jason protests, even as Tim cuts him off to introduce himself.
"Kori Anders, Roy Harper, I'm Tim." Tim waves his hand, not looking away from the boxes, "I would offer you something to drink but we're running late and I've already packed away my good glasses."
Tim waves them towards a car, "Move your things, I don't have time to deal with you right now. The car will take you on to the next point, I'll follow behind as soon as this is finished."
He makes a shooing motion at them, giving Jason a not so gentle shove in the direction of the car.
Jason sighs, lips twitching upwards when Tim slips the earpiece into his pocket – he's missed it. He had to turn his in before leaving Gotham. If Jason is being honest, he feels kind of naked without one.
The car is one of the special ones that needs no driver. Jason still isn't sure how the Quartermaster managed to pull that one off, but he's not going to question it while he's in said vehicle.
"Yes." Jason says, when the car doors close and lock. "He's always like that. You get used to it." And in Jason's case, you learn to miss it when it's gone.
He figures there's probably some sort of sappy bullshit saying about this.
As it is, he just leans back and sinks into the seats of the car, slides the communicator into his ear and turns it on. There's the familiar click that signals its activation, and Jason folds his arms. And sleeps.
(So maybe he didn't sleep as much as he should have, on the trip coming here. He got nervous, so sue him.)
Since Q has been reassigned to managing and coordinating with the Teen Titans and JLA, he hasn't been around Gotham as much.
Jason is fairly sure that the disappointment at this is tangible in the fucking air.
Even 01R is showing it, following at Q's heels and generally being snappish at the idea of not following Tim around like a little stalker. If Jason didn't think it'd get him shot or worse, he'd probably make some comment on it.
Dick isn't even trying to be subtle, just plants himself in front of Q until Tim sighs and opens his arms for hugs and cuddles and all that joyous goodness.
Shit – even B is feeling it, hovering around Tim's blind spots for a few minutes every other hour or so.
All of this, Jason observes from his place at Tim's side. Of course. Obviously. Where else would he fucking be?
Q fiddles with the controls of a camera, squinting his eyes and leaning forward – "Does that look dangerous to you?"
Jason snorts, "I think our definitions of dangerous are pretty damn different."
"Repeated blows to the head do tend to cause such things." Tim remarks, "Jumping into Gotham River at two in the morning in the middle of December. Idiot."
"It was one fucking time, jesus, would you let it go?"
"No, I'm not going to let it go because it was twice- "
"The second time I got thrown in!"
"It was twice and you got sick both times and do you know who was nursing your horrible sick ass? Me. That's who. You're a horrible sick patient. Damian is a better sick patient than you. Bruce is a better sick patient than you. – " Q frowns, double clicks, "Now that's just –"
Tim taps a com-line, "N, put the escrima stick away, you're going to short circuit something. Mainly your brain if you poke that. Just bring it back for O to check out."
The somewhat grainy image of N on screen gives the camera a two fingered salute -
"Continuing where we left off," Q starts up again, "You are the worst sick patient ever."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jason can see Damian edging in to resume his stalking and sends the boy a feral grin.
Damian glares but retreats. Tim continues talking, either noticing and not caring or noticing and not caring enough to make a comment.
(It's inconceivable that Tim hasn't noticed.)
"At least I attempt to get better." Jason mutters, "You just walk it off. How is that even a valid thing? You can't walk off – "
"Yes, I can." Tim huffs, "There is nothing that I can't walk off. I'm willful like that."
"That's one word for it." Personally, Jason would use dumbass motherfucker instead. Or. fucking idiot. Or maybe even a nice, simple, pain in the ass.
"I can feel your disapproval, 00H. Is there something you'd like to say?" Tim is giving him the side-eye, so Jason just shrugs -
"Why, Quartermaster, it isn't my place to disapprove. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I've heard that you want to meet me." Roy almost has a heart attack when the somewhat familiar face of Gotham's Quartermaster. Roy remembers meeting him, in person, three times prior. During the integration of the Gotham network to the JLA, Teen Titans, and various other affiliated groups. He's "spoken" to the Quartermaster through various other frequencies, as well.
As always, the Quartermaster's young appearance is a little unnerving. Especially coupled with the slender glass frames on his nose, and the shot of liquor in his hand.
"Is Jason going to shoot me for meeting you in a club, even if I didn't mean to?" Q rolls his eyes, orders another shot.
"I don't drink." He says by way of explanation. His eyes flicker to the mirror behind the bar, and Roy looks in to see 00L's eyes meet his before she vanishes.
"Do you go anywhere unescorted?"
"Do you go anywhere without carrying miniature explosives and gas pellets?" Q counters with a mostly gentle smile. "Don't worry, she's on her way out. Anyway. You wanted to meet me?"
"Well, you are the one who has Jason attempting to steal my arrowheads. I figured that maybe you'd wanna talk shop some time."
"I would like that. I would like that very much." Q traces the perspiration of the glass on the counter top. "I have some design plants that I'd like to discuss with you, concerning your weaponry and armor. In fact, I would greatly enjoy it if you'd test some of my prototypes."
Q pulls out a thin, rectangular case from his inner coat pocket. It looks a lot like a wallet, but he slides it over to Roy. When Roy opens it he finds an ear piece, a pair of contact lenses, slim ray bans, and two vials of clear liquid. Roy whistles.
"Don't you have a whole city for that kind of thing? I mean – I'm not going to get in trouble for playing with the good stuff, am I?"
"I figure that my equipment has a higher chance of returning to me in tact and seeing a higher degree of testing from you, considering your smarter fighting style."
"You mean how I fight long range."
"Exactly. And no, you aren't going to get in trouble." Q sniffs, "What I do with my tech is no one's business but my own. Besides, considering how things have been going lately? Of course I'm going to be branching out, might as well start now." Q stands up, "I'll be seeing you again, soon, Mr. Harper."
Q blinks, smiles, more danger and secrecy this time. "I told you, I don't drink."
But Q takes the shot, and walks deeper into the club, Roy watches him go. He toasts the man in the mirror, Jason flashes him a sharp grin, arm sliding around the Quartermaster's waist as they disappear into the crowd.
As part of a gesture of good faith, B has them all start going on out of Gotham missions. A move that, as 03B says is another stupid-ass man-angst-ridden move.
A sentiment everyone agrees with wholeheartedly, even 01R. Probably because he's been assigned on missions with the Teen Titans. At least Jason gets to stick with Kori and Roy.
N ruffles 01R's hair, "It might not be so bad. Your face is going to get stuck like that."
"And it would still be a better face than yours." Steph snorts as Damian bats Dick's hand away. "Would you stop that."
"No." Dick says, pinning Damian to his side. "And isn't this great, Dami? You get to make friends. Friends. Actual, real, live, friends who you don't have to extract information from and possibly incarcerate."
Damian bares his teeth, "We shall see about that."
Quartermaster is putting together some "have fun, don't destroy inter-team relations, get me pictures of Damian's misery" bags. Jason thinks he sees Tim slip a waffle-maker into 03B's and a case of Disney DVD's into 00L's.
"Get all the information you can, Robin. Our dossiers aren't exactly up to date or as accurate as they could be."
"Tim." Dick hisses, "Friends. This isn't – guys, this isn't infiltration, it's! Bruce, tell them!"
Bruce looks at them, with this look of utter bafflement, like – what is even going on in my life, when did Jesus take the wheel – , before looking at Damian, deadpanning, "It's infiltration."
The sound of Dick's hand hitting his forehead is audible over Damian's triumphant tt and Tim's preening.
"What're you doing?" Roy blinks as Jason attempts to steal one of his arrows. "You could just ask, you know."
"But it's more fun this way." Jason replies, palming some arrowheads. "Q wants to play with your tech. And, as ever, I am my Quartermaster's humble servant."
"Humble my ass." Roy snorts, "And if he wants something to play with I'd be more than happy to show him some of this stuff in person. Or is that against the rules?"
"Q isn't a meet-people sort of person. More of a –"
"Send his minions to do his bidding?"
"Exactly. Now, you're getting it, Harper. There's a hierarchy to this shit."
"I find it amusing that you boss me and Kori around and yet you're not that high on the totem pole in your own city."
"Hey – I'd like you to find someone who isn't lower than the Quartermaster. B doesn't count because – " Jason makes a show of looking around, before leaning in and stage-whispering, "Q knows where we sleep."
Roy is giving him this look like he is actually unable to believe Jason's shit, but it's true because -
"Remind me to tell you what Q did to Nightwing for breaking his special tie-pin." Jason grins, "It involved glitter, a mirror ball, and a crazy amount of mentos."
