"Tim?" Kon starts, quietly. It's polite to almost-whisper if someone is in the middle of something.
It's awkward as hell, trying to interrupt a pulse that is begging to be stopped. Robin's intake of breath is a seething gasp as the Boy Wonder nearly slams into the matted wall not far from Conner. The red and green body hesitates for only a second, only time slows and it's as if Robin will consider pressing against that surface for longer. Surrendering.
Conner takes the opportunity to repeat himself, saying, "Robin?"
White eyes glance up and across Conner's face, before Robin pushes away from his resting place and almost stumbles into a continued sprint. A finger is carelessly tossed at the doorway as Robin pushes past. Predictably unsatisfied with how graceless his initial footwork had been, Robin straightens as he moves.
Conner can hear the muscles giving, and bites back a louder inquiry.
Please stop.
There is a ragged gasp and Robin's not halfway along on his newly chosen path when he lurches forward. A handstand, a cartwheel, and then a handless flip. It ends with Robin relaunching himself backwards, Conner picking apart each movement while expecting the worst.
Things go well, save for Robin's final landing being unbalanced enough to cause the teen to catch himself; knee connecting with the floor. Springing back to his feet, Robin drags a hand across his lips and chokes on a curse.
He resumes laps, once more.
It's been four hours.
Conner is at a loss of what to say, finding that they've gone over this before.
Why don't you give it a break, Tim?
And you saw what happened earlier, Kon. We fucked up and got lucky. We need to be better.
It's always hard winning conversations against Robin. But in as much as it is Robin's nature to just push forward despite any protests from anything, Conner is stubborn, too.
Only, the last time he refrained Robin from moving, the other refused to say a word to Conner for the rest of the weekend. Conner can appreciate the glares and the directed loathing when he's earned it, but trying to help the only way he knows how rarely deserves punishment.
And yet...
He watches Robin unleash a kick at one of the dummies. The sound of his boot slapping against the Kevlar frame of the doll echoes hollowly across the gymnasium. Conner can tune that out and focus instead on the hisses Robin hides under his breath. Encouraging himself or depreciating himself to further action.
I need to be better. God, this should be easy by now.
On the field of battle, Superboy has often had the chance to watch Robin at work. Obviously the training is productive, but the mistakes that Robin brings up later never seem to catch Kon's attention. He can't recall the mishaps that Robin growls about.
He's tired of watching Robin march directly from the front door of the Tower to the gym.
And all he can offer are polite interjections from the doorway until Robin's legs give or, like two months ago, the other crumples onto the mats just weeping.
Not good enough. Never good enough.
"I'm here," he says to himself. "And you look good to me."