Timothy raised an eyebrow slightly. "Of course. It's your choice; no matter how much more I try to do what's best for you, nothing will be more important than 'I'm willing'."
Colt felt as if he were meeting Timothy for the first time; Timothy wasn't just pretending, he truly believed that "I'm happy to" was what mattered most.
Silence spread, the air grew humid and sticky. It was unclear whose palms were sweating, but their clasped hands felt overwhelmingly present.
Timothy pulled Colt up, released his hand, patted his shoulder: "We should go, or the Zoo will close its doors."
Colt quietly breathed a sigh of relief, turning around calmly to organize his backpack. He turned his back to Timothy, but his mental energy remained wrapped around the person behind him, automatically forming images in his mind. After confirming that Timothy wasn't looking at him, Colt quickly wiped his palms on his backpack; as the lingering body heat that didn't belong to him rapidly faded, he couldn't help but clench his fists again, trying to hold on.
The parking lot.
Before Timothy could even approach his car, he suddenly paused. He leaned down to tighten his shoelaces, muttering softly, "Go back and pick up Birdie first."
Colt was confused, but he soon discovered that the person hiding in Timothy's car was not a villain, but a member of the Wayne family.
The birds are always fighting, but they have a great relationship.
As soon as Timothy got into the car, he was pinned down by Dick, who began feeling him all over.
“Timmy, I didn't waste a whole day off just to play hide-and-seek with you. Tell me, who did you pick a fight with? Are you hurt?”
Watch my camera! Wait, a fight?
Timothy stopped struggling.
"The blonde girl said you're being targeted by a Ghost even more dangerous than Barlas." Jason seriously inspected the photos in Timothy's camera.
Timothy looked at Stephanie.
Stephanie leaned in close to Jason, looking together at what the brothers had filmed today, her mouth moving with a sense of alarmism as if she were trying to stir up trouble: "That Ghost can distort a person's perception; I suspect he has his eye on Timmy's body, literally."
The students of the world's greatest detective used their detective skills to find every clue.
"No photos all afternoon, your tracker disappeared too. What have you been doing?" Jason shoved the camera into Cassandra's arms and hooked his arm around Timothy's neck.
Timothy lay back, giving them a roll of his eyes. "You could use a bit more imagination. Why not guess that the Ghost I know is the same Ghost Duke knows?"
Because I know the Ghost of the Teen Titans is Stark's student, a Quantum AI." Dick's information was quite well-informed, the concern in Birdie's eyes was almost overflowing: "Instead of suspecting him, you should suspect that your lack of sleep is causing hallucinations and auditory disturbances. Timmy, tell me you aren't going crazy.
I was working this afternoon—the Super Battery update plan, the new energy vehicle factory proposal, financial statements for the Batwing budget.." Timothy broke free from his brother's embrace and looked around the room. "Could you help me look over those company documents?
Dick, who didn't participate in company affairs and only lived off fund dividends, fell silent. Jason, who had accidentally broken the Batwing, also said nothing. Stephanie thought of the luxury villa in Mid-Levels, Hong Kong, realized she was still in a position where she owed too many favors to speak up, so she remained quiet as well.
Cassandra hugged Timothy from behind. "If you need help, tell us. We are all on your side."
Timothy hugged Cassandra back, lamenting that he still needed more training in emotional control; otherwise, he would end up like today, having his secrets discovered by a sister who was the most skilled at reading micro-expressions.
Yes, he was indeed in a bit of a bad mood.
Timothy understood Colt, supporting him in maintaining the status quo, yet he worried about Colt's mental health.
Colt was once the bravest child he had ever met, one could even say fearless. Colt was like a hero from a story, wielding an iron sword and daring to slay dragons to save princesses, believing himself to be a savior burdened with the responsibility of saving the world.
Timmy was not clear on the specific circumstances of Colt's life over these years, but all the clues pointed to the fact that it wasn't just Colt's body that had disappeared, but also his traces left in this world. Joseph was the only one who remembered his child, perhaps Batman as well.
Colt was trapped in a dimensional rift, where the Ghost field acted like a bubble isolating him from the world. He spent four years in there unable to touch, speak, or hear, followed by three years in a semi-ghost state where he could only touch things in a limited way but could never grow. He only began to grow again more than two years ago, it was only during this period that his hearing aid and brain-computer interface were implemented.
Amnesia does not change a person's nature, but long-term isolation twists one's psyche.
Thinking of the Joker timer at Colt's house, Timothy still believed that Colt was planning something big.
Colt has loved excitement and physical contact with others since he was a child; he might not love seeking out excitement as much now, but his love for physical contact hasn't changed.
No, it was no longer just a liking, but a craving.
Just a stroke on the forehead or a simple handshake would make Colt blush with excitement. Even so, Colt never shied away; he would lean in like a quiet puppy, exposing his soft belly and using those eyes to silently plead: stroke me, just a little more, let me prove that I truly exist.
No one could refuse such a look, even if they could, it wouldn't be Timothy.
Timmy felt as much disappointment after being rejected as he had wanted to help Colt.
This sense of loss also came from other aspects.
Timothy had thought his sleep was very important to Colt, believing their connection could allow Colt to return to Gotham from the dimensional rift, but Colt's reaction denied his speculation.
Colt hoped he would sleep more, simply hoping to gain something from his dreams!
Timothy really wanted to work himself to death for seven days and seven nights, just to let Colt know how treacherous the human heart can be!
..
Colt was satisfied with the status quo.
He returned to Gotham faster than Timothy. Just as he entered Wayne, Birdie flew towards him, carrying a budding red rose in its beak, tucked the rose into the gap between Colt's Quantum Terminal and his hair.
"It looks like you've had a great day too." Colt opened a paper wrapper containing white jasmine rice and black rice, which he had specially saved for Birdie when he made his rice balls at noon.
Birdie pecked at the rice grains happily.
Damian rushed out from the conservatory, whistling and looking around as he searched for the little bird.
Colt gently scratched Birdie's head: "Go say goodbye to your new friend."
Birdie ate the last grain of food, paced across Colt's shoulder, rubbed its beak against a petal, letting out a "chirp" to urge Colt to head home.
The bird looked like it didn't want to fly for even another second.
Colt stopped forcing the bird to exercise and went home to write a healthy lifestyle schedule.
6:30 Wake up, free time in the yard for half an hour, 7:00 Breakfast, half an hour of television allowed, 7:30 Start free activities, half an hour of flying can be exchanged for half an hour of television time, 12 exchanges allowed per day, no going out after 8:00 PM.
Colt explained it to Birdie one by one.
Birdie disagreed, Birdie protested loudly, Birdie stated that he couldn't understand human speech.
Colt dismantled the television.
The Birdie was furious. The Birdie did not go on a hunger strike; instead, after finishing the terrible birdseed, it jumped into Colt's plate to steal food, intending to eat itself into an even larger ball to get revenge on Colt's coldheartedness.
Colt allowed Birdie to snatch his chickpeas, but refused to share his protein; after dinner, he left Birdie in the living room without a television and went to the darkroom alone to develop photos.
The developing tanks, chemicals, enlargers needed for developing film were ready, tools like measuring cups, thermometers, tweezers, utility knives, heaters, rubber gloves, colored lights were already available at home, but a color enlarger costs over ten thousand, which Colt has not yet purchased, so for now, he can only develop black and white photos.
Pandas only come in black and white, so black and white photos look great too.
Colt blinked his aching eyes and stretched his sore neck.
He suspected his brain was broken to have chosen traditional film photography; he should have used a digital camera, so a single photo printer could have handled it.
Colt clipped the photos onto the rope and took off his gloves to head out and deal with the Robin Bird that had been climbing through his window in the middle of the night.
A Gotham specialty: the kind of Robin Bird that doesn't have wings.
Colt watched Robin, who had slipped into the house as silently as a ninja, chose to make a video call to Timothy in the encrypted group.
[139, 0, 255: Look what I found?]
[185, 205, 246: A lost Robin. Well, I didn't expect even him to have learned how to use a tracker. Wait for me for half an hour, I'll be there immediately.]
Chapter 32
Red Robin made no attempt to hide his arrogance, sneering at the decorations in Colt's home.
Yellowed crystal chandeliers and cracked floor tiles were one thing, but even the expensive-looking coffee machine and that sizable jar of coffee beans earned a curl of his lip and a silent snort through his nose.
Red Robin used the tip of his knife to pick up the Birdie's droppings, that look of utter disdain on his face made one's hands itch.
【 139, 0, 255: Can I scare him? 】
【185, 205, 246: (*￣￣) Fine, it would be even better to livestream him looking terrified. 】
The lights suddenly flickered, the curtains began to sway, a chilling breeze flowed through the room. The looping, rhythmic sounds of wailing wind and faint laughter became increasingly distinct, while bloody silhouettes seemed to flash in the corners. Inaudible infrasound waves caused a sense of mental confusion, the mutated magnetic field was bone-chilling..
A normal person would scream "Ghost!" and run outside at a time like this.
Red Robin is not a normal person.
He snorted, slashing his blade through a decoration on the ceiling, two of the ghosts projected in the corner vanished.
[139, 0, 255: He owes me five thousand dollars.]
Birdie was startled awake, stumbling and crawling out as it tumbled down from the gaps in the second-floor railing. Red Robin was even faster than Colt, lunging forward to catch Birdie, tugging at its wings, stroking its claws, checking Birdie's condition.
Colt turned off the smart home's haunted house mode.
Although he could adjust the infrasound to a lethal frequency, or intensify the magnetic field anomalies to create psychological terror comparable to Fear Toxin, Red Robin was Birdie's friend, not an enemy.
The normal lights flickered on in the room, all those ghostly shadows and eerie sounds vanished. The refrigerator door opened and closed automatically, a carton of milk floated out, the stove ignited to start boiling milk, the kitchen cabinets opened and closed, a mug floated down..
A cup of hot milk with honey was placed in front of Red Robin.
Red Robin stared at the Cockroach Robin on the mug, the white lenses of his Domino Mask widening.
The expression on his face was worth a bucket of popcorn.
Red Robin gripped the knife, looking as if he were about to destroy the evidence by smashing the milk along with the cup, but Birdie landed on his knife.
The tip of the knife stopped in mid-air, just one centimeter away from the cup.
Chirp
Birdie chirped at Red Robin, using the blade as a bridge to hop several steps across, landing on the table. He nudged the cup with his head, staring at Red Robin with his black bean-like eyes.
Cheep~
Red Robin locked eyes with Birdie for three seconds, sheathed his blade with a serious expression, picked up the milk to take a sniff.
It's not poisoned.
Hmph, he wouldn't be afraid even if it were poisoned.
Red Robin was just about to tilt his head back and take a big gulp when two ice cubes appeared out of thin air and fell into his milk cup, sending a few splashes of hot milk flying onto his face.
"Chirp!" Birdie chirped loudly, spreading its wings to fan its beak, its two little claws hopping back and forth, mimicking the appearance of being burned.
Red Robin gulped down his milk, chewed the ice, lifted his cape to wipe the milk from his face. He nodded to Birdie and said seriously, "I'm not afraid of being burned."
Chirp
You need to exercise more; only with a healthy physique can you live a longer life.
Cheep!
Since you're called a Robin Bird, you must live up to that name; you can't be so willful.