Dress up as a Bat and mug petty criminals in the dead of night preaching of Justice, then Tim might have words about delusions.
His thoughts, all of them, stutter to a stop as Jeff touches the jacket. It's beyond dumb, it's reckless idiocy: Tim sneaks a moment of nothing and clears his throat a second time--
"Jeez, you're a lightweight."
Nothing like some friendly ribbing to let him breathe again. Tim wonders how friendly it really is when he's well aware the man's got some dependency on-- but it won't matter as much. Today. Tim's here. He can help. Which is a good indication that Tim's sobered up, at least, is back to his baseline sort of disconnected interest.
He slides on down to sit as a normal human person, feels... trapped, and so he crosses his legs underneath himself.
Just two dudes chilling out and-- right. (He does not clear his throat a third time.) "I brought... a laptop," he offers, voice carrying despite the very short distance between them. It's not his fault. He's not, like, good at-- being normal. (That, dear friend, is his anxiety spiking. Jeff would know his tell by now, same as that night at the barbeque: Tim's words just flow out, take on a life of their own.) "And, like I said, some movies. If you want. I don't know what you want to-- you forgot--"
Jurassic Park, The Lost World.
Tim has no idea what to do with his hands.
Tragic.
"And, a few other DVDs. I don't have a hotspot for this thing that I could bring in here and I, uhh. Like. We don't have to? I probably should have called ahead, huh?"
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His thoughts, all of them, stutter to a stop as Jeff touches the jacket. It's beyond dumb, it's reckless idiocy: Tim sneaks a moment of nothing and clears his throat a second time--
"Jeez, you're a lightweight."
Nothing like some friendly ribbing to let him breathe again. Tim wonders how friendly it really is when he's well aware the man's got some dependency on-- but it won't matter as much. Today. Tim's here. He can help. Which is a good indication that Tim's sobered up, at least, is back to his baseline sort of disconnected interest.
He slides on down to sit as a normal human person, feels... trapped, and so he crosses his legs underneath himself.
Just two dudes chilling out and-- right. (He does not clear his throat a third time.) "I brought... a laptop," he offers, voice carrying despite the very short distance between them. It's not his fault. He's not, like, good at-- being normal. (That, dear friend, is his anxiety spiking. Jeff would know his tell by now, same as that night at the barbeque: Tim's words just flow out, take on a life of their own.) "And, like I said, some movies. If you want. I don't know what you want to-- you forgot--"
Jurassic Park, The Lost World.
Tim has no idea what to do with his hands.
Tragic.
"And, a few other DVDs. I don't have a hotspot for this thing that I could bring in here and I, uhh. Like. We don't have to? I probably should have called ahead, huh?"