Barbara Gordon sat in front of the Batcomputer and sighed. Filing was boring, but it had to be done eventually. As she organized case and personnel files, her comlink crackled to life.
"Oracle?"
"Red Robin? Are you ok?" she asked, concerned. Tim wasn't supposed to check in for another half hour.
"Oh, well, I ran into these goons trying to hotwire a limo, like, up around forth street. I think it was the Vale's limo."
"And?" Barbara prompted "Was there an altercation? Are you ok?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah definitely. There was a lot of them. Two got away, but eight are unconscious and tied up. They were pretty decent at fighting, but if there hadn't been so many, I think I could have taken them all."
Barbara sighed again. "Tim, where are you? And are you ok?"
"Um, I'm on top of the first national bank, On the west side, with that weird looking statue of the founders son."
Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tim. Are. You. Alright?"
"Well, I was trying to subdue one guy with this kung fu kick that Dick taught me last month when we were-"
"Tim!" Barbara interrupted. "Are you hurt?"
"Yeah."
Barbara waited. "Tim?"
"Oh! Oh yeah, I've been stabbed."
"You've been-" Barbara took a deep breath. "Ok, Tim, focus. Don't move, and I'll-"
"Well, I'm not on the bank anymore."
Barbara ground her teeth together. "Where are you now?"
"Ok, do you remember last week, when Alfred was making-"
"TIM!"
"...I'm on top of the tea shop," Tim said, sounding upset with being yelled.
"Don't move, I'm sending Dick to come get you," Barbara said. "Keep pressure on that stab wound."
"Ok, I can do that. What should I do about this cut on my head?"
Barbara blinked. "Tim."
"Yeah?"
"You are going to be the death of you."