He’s doodling idly, allowing Tim a sort of reserved privacy to get his dealings in order. Won’t even reverse password break that chat server later to read his messages. Probably. Between pen and paper blooms a shadowy silhouette of a pine tree, and Damian has moved onto a sketchy moon and little pencil dots of stars by the time Tim speaks again.
Not looking up, mildly smothering a snort. “I’m grounded and he’s still working, so. The ignoring is mutual.”
no subject
Not looking up, mildly smothering a snort. “I’m grounded and he’s still working, so. The ignoring is mutual.”