Even the best hairstyle will disappear once it gets rained on; is there any point in grabbing it?
"Red Robin's Ban hasn't ended yet," Batman reminded him.
Understood. Robin won't know I left the Safe House tonight." Red Robin gave up on fixing his hair and made an OK gesture. "I'll send the bodycam footage to you later, so I won't write a mission report.
Batman did not answer.
Silence is consent.
Red Robin rushed into the rain in high spirits, even humming a lullaby about baby ducks going to sleep. He didn't look like he was going to see an investigation subject, but rather to see his.. sweetheart.
Batman returned to the Batmobile and habitually turned on the monitors to check the locations of all the children.
Red Robin is moving toward Oak Tree Manor.
Batman stared at the moving point of light for two seconds, then started the Batmobile to return to the Batcave.
Colt did not go back to sleep; instead, he was in the basement training his Spiritual Power. He was preparing to create a flying motorcycle, its design inspired by Red Robin's Red Sparrow, using Vibranium as the material.
Spiritual Power decomposed the metal into basic particles, poured them into a mold that was also a spiritual power mimicry, then reassembled them. The hard Vibranium constantly shifted between gas, liquid, solid states, occasionally generating strange shapes due to errors in the molecular restructuring process.
The surveillance shows Red Robin is heading up the mountain.
The neighboring unit is still under renovation and uninhabitable, so it is obvious who Red Robin is here to see.
Colt added Red Robin to the family list in the Intelligent Protection System. The gate opened automatically as Red Robin approached; the motorcycle paused for a moment before accelerating into the courtyard and coming to a stop in the open garage.
Red Robin got off the motorcycle and shook the water off his body, looking toward Colt, who poked his head out from behind the wall.
Colt: "The rain is too heavy; it's more convenient to use the door."
Red Robin: "The problem has been solved."
The two spoke at the same time, only to realize they were not talking about the same thing, so they looked at each other in silence.
One second, two seconds..
Colt suspected that his desire to have him visit more often had already been exposed, his face began to heat up, but he still maintained an air of righteousness.
Red Robin was the first to look away, nodding. "Fine, next time I'll use the door."
Colt also withdrew his gaze and drifted out from the wall. While thinking about how to tell Red Robin that the second bedroom upstairs had been tidied up, he subconsciously began kneading the Vibranium as if it were clay.
Red Robin quickly composed himself and approached Colt: "What are you molding?"
"Training my spiritual power micro-manipulation. This is a motorcycle kickstand." Colt was doing this for the first time and wasn't skilled yet, so he was starting with simple parts.
Red Robin leaned in to take a closer look.
Colt smelled the moisture rushing toward him.
Normally, without physical contact, he shouldn't be able to smell anything outside of the Ghost field. In fact, the air within the Ghost field hadn't changed; what he thought was the scent of water vapor was merely an illusion.
Colt stared at Red Robin's wet hair, as droplets dripped from his bangs onto his face and slid down to his chin. His gaze froze.
"Is this Vibranium?" Red Robin looked up.
"Molecularly speaking, it's Vibranium." A droplet of water gathered on his chin and fell. Colt's gaze shifted upward, before he could find another droplet, he met the sight of the narrowed Domino Mask.
Red Robin was looking at him, the Domino Mask made her look a bit fierce.
Colt looked away. "You left your backpack in the study."
“It's not forgotten.” Red Robin brushed his wet hair back, a somewhat smug smile on his face. “Did you see the suitcase in the living room? For the collective progress of the study group, I'll need to borrow your sofa until the Safe House is finished being renovated.”
Chapter 34
Timothy did not sleep on the sofa; Colt led him to the second guest bedroom.
The bed was covered in brand-new bedding, with a bookshelf at the head and a small desk by the window. On the desk sat an unopened Wayne laptop, the wardrobe featured a secret compartment large enough to hold a full Red Robin uniform.
Timothy remained composed: This isn't something that can be tidied up in just an hour or two.
Colt explained, "The Intelligent Protection System is also called Watchin. You can call him to control the lights and curtains, to adjust the indoor temperature and humidity. The bathroom is next door; there are spare toiletries, but no bathtub. If you want to take a bath, you'll need to go downstairs or to my room."
Timothy had no intention of taking a bath. He simply grabbed a set of clothes and headed to the bathroom, clutching his underwear.
Colt looked at the open suitcase on the floor and nudged it lightly with his foot. These were private belongings, Timothy had not given explicit permission; theoretically, he shouldn't touch them, but the suitcase slid slightly under his foot.
The Spiritual Connection brought by the Dream Station was even deeper than imagined.
Timothy took a shower, changed into a hoodie and jeans, styled his hair in front of the mirror. Only then did he come out carrying a laundry basket filled with his Red Robin uniform, only to see that his luggage had already been organized.
He gave a whistle. "Is this room service?"
Colt was startled by the whistle, looking back at Timothy in his casual attire, then looked again. Timothy looked his age, no longer the mature and steady Young Master Wayne, but a good-looking and well-behaved student.
"There's a workshop next to the first-floor garage where you can maintain the suit," Colt said, averting his gaze.
Timothy set down the laundry basket, the smile on his face impossible to hide: "So, how much rent do I need to pay?"
Colt thought seriously. Based on the average prices in Gotham, renting a villa would be about 5,000 a month, minus 1,000 for a secondary bedroom, minus another 1,000 for the community environment.. He gave a reasonable price: "Three thousand, including meals, plus two extra cups of coffee in the morning and evening?"
Timothy didn't expect Colt to actually give a price. He froze for a moment, then opened his arms to embrace Colt.
Colt was a bit stunned, his ears filled with hot breath and low, muffled chuckles, with body heat seeping through their clothes. Reason told Colt he should push him away, but the pull of the embrace was like the poles of a magnet, so his raised hands remained stuck to Timothy's back.
"Two thousand, I can't go any lower." Colt took the initiative to lower the price.
Timothy laughed even louder, his chest vibrating. The thin sweatshirt provided no buffer at all, Colt's heart raced from the impact.
“No, Drake never lowers his price.” Timothy patted Colt's back and let him go with a laugh. "The average price for a villa in Gotham is about 5,000 a month. Subtract 1,000 for a secondary bedroom, another 1,000 for the community environment, add 2,000 for meals. For a one-month short-term lease, one month's deposit plus the first month's rent upfront—which of your accounts should I transfer it to?"
Colt's disappointment vanished because Timothy had proactively increased the rent, he provided an account number.
Timothy knew this account; it belonged to a certain love letter translation master on the translation website. Therefore, he selected an account from his countless bank accounts that had no record of online transfers and handed it over as the first rent payment of his life. Although Red Robin would need temporary places to stay when investigating cases, he would stay in hotels or inns for the short term, would buy a house directly for the long term. This was indeed his first time renting a place.
Colt carefully drafted the rental contract, printed two copies, signed them before carefully storing them away. He glanced at the time and asked, "What do you want for breakfast? It's almost seven, you have your first class in the morning, so there isn't enough time to make steak. Is fried eggs and corn okay?"
He had just boiled a pot of corn. The sweet corn of this season was very fresh; it tasted delicious even when just boiled.
"I'm not a picky eater." Timothy wanted to laugh again; this kind of domestic interaction was very special to him.
Of course, Timothy was not lacking for family, the Wayne household was not as cold and loveless as outsiders imagined. His father and grandfather loved him dearly, as did his siblings. Damian might be the exception, but that didn't matter; he didn't care much for Damian anyway.
Alfred usually provides nutritious meals based on their physical condition, only asks them what they want to eat when he wants to reward someone. They can also order food from Alfred, he will satisfy any request as long as it isn't junk food. However, there are too many people in the house, Alfred already works hard enough taking care of everyone; except for Damian, everyone tacitly agrees not to be picky eaters.
Damian's picky eating was nothing more than only eating vegetarian.
Timothy packed his bag and went to the kitchen to help. "Mr. Landlord, is there anything I can do?"
"Take them out, be careful, they're hot." Colt pointed to the corn in the pot beside him, which had been taken off the heat and was steaming. Once he had finished tossing the vegetable salad and brought out four fried eggs, he saw Timothy using a steak knife to scrape the corn kernels one by one into a bowl.
Can't you just grab corn and eat it?
Colt didn't understand, but he chose to respect it. Perhaps peeling the corn kernels and eating them with a spoon was part of Young Master Wayne's sense of ritual. Just like the Michelin-starred food eaten by high society, which is exquisite and small in portion, a single spoonful of corn kernels could be considered a full dish.
Timothy handed the bowl of corn kernels he had finally managed to shuck to Colt.
Colt shook his head and pushed it back, picked up a corn cob to take a bite, fed some healthy birdseed to Birdie, who was crouching on the TV remote.
The bird didn't want to eat it.
Birdie rolled over to Timothy's hand to nuzzle and eat the corn kernels.
"Corn is a light snack, eating a little should be fine," Timothy said on behalf of Little Red Bird.
North American Robin's diet did indeed include corn, raw corn was even better suited for a bird's stomach. Colt took out an uncooked ear of young corn, peeled the husk, placed it next to the remote control, letting the bird peck at it to eat, which also served as exercise for its neck and beak.
..
Life under the same roof has officially begun.
Colt has grown accustomed to having another person in the house. Birdie has a new supervisor, that supervisor hasn't let Colt off easy either.
Timothy gets a lot of exercise; he completes his physical training every day and also drags Colt along for an hour of activity. From basketball to table tennis, badminton, even football, they are all games that require a partner.
For Timothy, this was relaxation. For Colt, it was a process of staying grounded and regaining control over his body.
Physical training is much harder than training Spiritual Power.
Every time Colt finished exercising, he would float at a low altitude like a balloon, repeatedly playing the phrase "study groups are only for training spiritual power micro-manipulation, Ghost doesn't need physical training" in Timothy's ear.
But every time it was almost time for exercise, before Timothy could even call him, Colt would proactively change into his sportswear. If Timothy was still busy, Colt wouldn't rush him; he would simply take care of the homework Timothy needed to write and maintain the Red Robin motorcycle, so that Timothy could find time to exercise with him more quickly.
Timothy never let Colt down; he even made a chart to record every bit of Colt's progress.
Every time Colt scored a goal or won a point, Timothy would jump up laughing to high-five him, fist-bump him, give him a celebratory hug.
Birdie was also making progress, had even learned how to run away from home.
Birdie hitched a ride on Timothy's car to go to Wayne Manor to find Damian, complaining that Colt was forcing him to exercise. Damian was even stricter than Colt; although he allowed Birdie to eat sunflower seeds and play on the tablet, the games had to be math-related, even the sunflower seeds had to be traded for by catching bugs.
Birdie continued to bump against Timothy's car, slinking back home in disgrace. Then, all television time was confiscated, leaving him so bored that he could only fight with Bird in the yard. Exercise was proving useful; Birdie's movements were becoming increasingly agile, his winning streak was growing.
The bird is starting to love fighting.
That being said, Timothy was like a migrating ant, carrying a suitcase one day and a travel bag the next, slowly invading Colt's world with his personal belongings. By the time Colt realized it, Timothy's traces were everywhere in the house except for the basement—surveillance cameras, shoes, pens, ties, cufflinks, Domino Masks, Red Robin gloves.. were visible everywhere.
The second bedroom became warm and lively.
Timothy changed his mattress and took the opportunity to change Colt's as well. A mattress costing hundreds of thousands was indeed more comfortable to sleep on. As a former insomniac, the pillows and duvets Timothy recommended were truly sleep-inducing. Most importantly, Timothy said there was a group buy discount—buy five sets and get one free—so the ones he changed for Colt were all freebies from the renovation next door.
The wardrobe in the second bedroom couldn't hold all of Wayne's clothes, so they cleared out two cabinets in the walk-in closet to store those custom formal suits, as well as precious accessories like watches and cufflinks.
Colt learned for the first time that there were actually so many different types of men's formal wear, that watches, brooches, cufflinks all had so many intricacies. He could master how many knowledge points an Arc Reactor had, he could analyze which points to watch out for in Luthor Tech's biological cloning technology. But he didn't know which occasions required a brooch, or which kind of cufflinks would best match a beige suit.
Because of Timothy, Colt began to pay attention to the life knowledge that Ghost had categorized as spam.
Red Robin in uniform looked powerful and cool, Drake in a hoodie and jeans looked well-behaved and handsome, the meticulously dressed Young Master Wayne looked exactly like a prince from an idol drama.
Colt also has a formal suit, a tuxedo that his father swiped from the company.
This color and style are too old-fashioned; they don't suit you," Timothy commented. He took out a beige casual suit and held it up in front of Colt to gauge the fit. "Try this one.
"I don't have any occasions where I need to wear formal attire." Colt shook his head. Before he met Timothy, he used to wear a lab coat over his pajamas. It had improved a little now, but he had only switched to T-shirts and hoodies, he still frequently wore a lab coat over them.
He liked the lab coats produced by Wayne; they had large pockets that could hold an A4 notebook and a pencil case.
This is casual wear; you can wear it at home. Dressing up is to remind oneself to maintain proper posture, not to adapt to an occasion." Timothy looked at Colt seriously, his tone sincere: "You are beautiful, Colt. Even if you were just wrapped in a bedsheet, you would look like you were wearing high-end Athenian couture.
Colt's ears turned red instantly, the flush spreading across his face.