"You are running quite late master Timothy." Taking a sharp turn to the left, Tim hummed softy through the cold device pressed against his ear.

"I know Alfie, I'm sorry. The meeting went on a lot longer than I anticipated. I'll be there within the hour. You guys just go ahead and eat without me."

"Nonsense," the butler scoffed from the other side, making the younger male quirk his lips into a hint of a smile. "We shall wait your arrival. Drive safely young master."

"Of course Alfie, thank you." Their conversation ended there. Taking another turn to the left, Tim squinted at the dark street ahead of him. He didn't like to drive in these types of hours usually, and the thought that someone could somehow run into the street without him noticing, only to get hit by his car greatly disturbed him for some reason.

Still, he was running late; having dragged on the meeting himself in order to settle future issues as well as map out upcoming project with the higher-ranking members of his staff and having sent his only reliable driver home due to the late hours, he'd put himself in the current predicament he found himself in.

Oh well, he thought. It can't really be helped.

Coming to a stop at the red light, he adjusted his collar and leaned back into one of the newly changed leather seats. He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly and eyes blinking away the grogginess. He didn't much look forward to seeing the 'family' but the time spent at the mention might provide him with just enough leg room to rest for a minute. Yawning loudly, he fiddled with his phone. He really needed the rest. Even he couldn't max out three days without at least two hours of some proper sleep.

Not that he couldn't function to an educate human level in the state he was in; God knew he wouldn't put the civilians around him in that kind of danger by being on the road if he wasn't sure, but every individual needed some rest every now and then, and Tim was quickly reaching his own limits.

He was lucky most of the streets were empty at this time of day, being determined not to cause a pile up on his way home, but that didn't mean he didn't feel just a tad bit more relaxed knowing that he didn't have to pay as much attention to the road as he otherwise would've.

As the light turned from feverish yellow to dull green, he started up the car again and smoothly moved forward in the direction of the manor. Well-

That had been the plan- but when the slightest hint of a movement from the narrow alleyway across the street caught his peripheral vision, his car came to a screeching halt, body immediately on full alert as his eyes scanned the dark pathway between two of Gotham's tall buildings. Ignoring the blaring honking noise behind him, he swiveled his car to the side till he was at least secure in the fact that the vehicle wouldn't get in the way of ongoing traffic, before unbuckling his seatbelt and scooting over to the passenger seat in order to get out without giving the furious driver behind him a chance to run him over in revenge.

Opening the door leading to the sidewalk he quickly stepped out, paused for a second in contemplation, before reaching down under the seat, digging around and finally producing a cold glinting object. Thank God for Jason. Bruce wouldn't like it, but fuck if Tim would walk into what clearly now looked to be a hostile situation as a civilian without a sufficiently being able to protect himself.

Checking the safety just in case, he tucked the loaded pistol into the waistband of his pants. He also; after a momentary second of debate discarded the fancy suit jacket, throwing it without much concern inside the car before slamming the door shut and making his way quickly but carefully over to the dingy alleyway he'd first spotted the commotion.

Thugs, was his first conclusion when he finally was far enough down the alley that he could make out the shapes of the three men leaning over whoever they had apparently decided to harass today. One of them was holding what looked to be a sharp enough object that it glinted dangerously from his clutched fist.

That could be a problem, but that man also appeared to be the only one wielding any sort of weapon so at least this situation what somewhat controllable. Well, definitely controllable for Red Robin, but Tim Drake Wayne could manage himself here as well.

"Oi," he called out drawing near enough to differentiate faces now. "What do you think you losers are doing?"

Trying to channel his best Jason Todd, he made sure to lower his voice down a peg, tried to make it sound more gruff than usual, and tried to draw himself up to his full height; not impressive at all according to Dick, but hey, if that didn't work he always had a gun.

At the sound of another stranger joining their little party, the three giants swiveled around, identical snares painted across their faces.

Tim couldn't really make out the hunched figure on the ground properly, but from what he could see, the figure was tiny-and it wasn't moving.

Well, that was worrying.

"What do you want shrimp. This aint non ya business so scram!"

Tim just crossed his arms, staring the knife wielder down from across the alley. "It is my business when you're harassing a homeless person in the middle of the night. Now leave before I call the cops."

They shifted but didn't move. "You think you can threaten me!" That was the knife wielder again. So? He most have clearly been the leader of this little ragtag team of bullies.

"Yes," Tim answered easily, now examining his nails in bored contemplation. "Either that or I'll shoot you. Pick."

Was it extreme? Yes. Was it necessary? Probably. Tim wasn't really proud of it, but what Bruce didn't know wouldn't hurt him and besides, Jason would get a good laugh out of it.

"A gun?" Knify sounded slightly uncertain now. Tim nodded and reached behind his back making the group scramble back from their victim.

Good.

"Yeah," he said. "Wanna see?" Before they could call bluff, he pulled out the cold metal from his waistband, pulled the safety with a click and aimed.

The effect was instant.

Scrambling back even further; the shorter one stumbling in panic into knify sending them both tumbling onto the dirty, rat infested Gotham ground, while the other took that opportunity to scram.

Tim waved the gun around some more. The other two didn't linger much longer after that. Darting with their tails between their legs after their third traitor of a companion.

Wow this was fun. No wonder Jason was so into it.

Reminder, Tim thought, that he needed to hand it back before he got ahead of himself. Dangerous territory and all that.

Clicking the safety back on, he stuffed the gun in his waistband again and slowly made his way over to the homeless person. He hoped the person was ok. Maybe he could help them towards one of the homeless shelters the Wayne foundation funded. It was the least he could do.

Crouching down despite the brief flair of pain shooting up his left knee, he observed the buddle of dirty coat huddled into the corner of the awfully smelling garbage bin.

"Hey," he said softly, bowing his head down to meet the gaze of the shivering body. "You're safe now. The bad men are gone, you can come out now."

He'd learned through experience that babying the victims usually put them more at ease than if you talked to them like equals. Either they would get annoyed at the disrespect thus focusing on their annoyance rather than the traumatic experience or they would take comfort from his words. You couldn't really go wrong either way really.

"Hey," he called out again when he didn't get a reply. "You ok?"

The buddle suddenly shifted, catching Tim momentarily of guard as a pale hand shot out from under the coat and grabbed his wrist. "Help."

The voice was hoarse, dead, pained.

"What?"

And Tim was met with the brightest pair of gray eyes he'd ever seen, a shock white tufts of hair barely dragging his attention away from them as the teen; for he couldn't have been much older than Tim himself, tilted over, eyes fluttering close and allowing gravity to drag him down to the filthy ground.

Tim caught him, fingers wrapping clumsily around a thin waist and hands meeting clammy skin and wet patches of not so shallow cuts that were probably infected by now and definitely still bleeding.

Fuck.

And as the shuddering breath of the white-haired teen puffed shakily against his neck where they were both sprawled across the dirty alleyway floor of Gotham city, Tim new for a fact that he wasn't going to make it back in time for the annual family dinner.