trans_9 | downtime. honest. [open]

In light of his injuries, Tim hadn't been doing as much work as he honestly would have liked to-- he was supposed to be taking it easy while he finished healing, and thus had spent more time around as himself, as opposed to as Red Robin.

Of course, he still had a lot of on his mind. Even without that taken into consideration, he wasn't a fan of idling. He'd spent a fair amount of time as 'Tim', at least, but beyond that-- well, if his work was being limited (though he could work on his own private things, as well), at least he still had training. He considered it physical therapy.

He had to be careful of course-- he was already probably moving himself too much-- but exercising was still important, after all. Even if it was lighter than he would normally allow himself. At least he was being sensible about it.

((ooc: Because of his injuries, Tim Drake is going to be around more than usual! While Red Robin is still in his usual haunts-- working with Engineering, Programming, Neuropathy, Security...--and with a decent amount of training mixed in. So feel free to run into him anywhere, as either, though those are the most likely places. c: ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

On one hand, Tim can appreciate Punchy's very obvious dedication to his job in Programming. He is clearly serious about giving ample time to work on his tasks.

On the other hand, sometimes he made it hard for Tim to take him seriously.

Tim raises an eyebrow under his cowl at Punchy suddenly calling him, but it was clearly work related (even before he explained). He peels himself away from his own projects, turning to face Punchy before he moves closer to the tent.

"I take it you'd like a second opinion, then?" he asks. And he knew how sleep deprivation could wreak havoc on proper work. Not that that stopped him in the past, either. But still, to hit a breakthrough-- considering what they had-- was impressive.

"Word." He slips back into the tent and sits cross-legged with a laptop that must be wired to about eighteen other gadgets (and thus defeating the purpose of a portable computer). He motions for Tim to sit next to him and take a look at the strings of white on black code he's been analyzing. A notebook sits next to him with notes scrawled in some of the most illegible handwriting known to all mankind - it resembles English less than it does ancient runes or artistic representations of dust bunnies.

"Okay, so we got this gank scrambled signal, right? I spent like, eight hours trying to crack that bitch, turns out I was having trouble with it because it was coming from two different zones."

He switches to another laptop, set up beside him. "The one I been dogging on this comp's too weak for me to get a solid pinpoint on, so either it's a mirror or it's the original and this other one..."

He goes back to the first laptop and switches tabs on it. "Is a booster to bring that crazy noise. Or it's the original and the other's picking it up by accident. But the thing about this signal is it's got enough juice to really bite into it. So if you run it through a pinpoint..."

Punchy takes a flash drive out of his computer and sticks it in the second laptop, running a program. "It gives you coordinates. And it's right in the City, so we can check it out and see what it is."

He grins at Tim, a little bit buzzed but mostly just stoked to have figured all this out.

Tim lowers himself into a sort of crouch, one arm resting over a knee, where he was directed to sit. Behind the lenses he's looking over Punchy's work-- noting the writing, as well, with a faint frown-- before he rests his gaze on the other teen's computer, listening to his explanation of what he's found.

And honestly, he was vaguely impressed. Punchy was certainly smarter than he seemed, and he had done some good work with this.

Red Robin nods, looking it over, before he actually-- nearly-- smiles a little. "Not bad at all," he comments, looking over all of the information on the screens. It seemed solid to him, as well. Lack of sleep or no, Punchy'd gotten it. "Nice work," he adds, casually, before he straightens up. He figures they should investigate right away.

Punchy gets to his feet too, before remembering that he probably shouldn't go wandering around the City shirtless. Not that his topless body isn't something all the ladies would clamor for, or that it probably couldn't be written off as cultural differences, but still. He pulls his jacket on, slips down his Serious Business goggles, and nods to Tim.

"It was no big. Just a little elbow grease and some cranking with the binary. Gummi worm?" He holds the nearly-empty bag out to Tim. It's very likely Punchy hasn't eaten anything else in the last twenty-six hours. "Or you wanna just slap leather and see if we can find some prints or DNA or whatever shizz on whatever this is?"

Unless it's the real thing! In which case they should bring backu...nawwwww they're superheroes, they can handle anything.

Tim raises an eyebrow at the taller boy's offer, having already swiftly and silently gotten to his feet while Punchy was occupied in making himself more presentable.

"I'm fine," he comments offhandedly, turning his attention to the more important matter at hand-- locating the source of the signal, in the city. "Let's get out of here," he answers, voice serious ~~because when is it not~~, ducking out of the tent. "The faster we make ground the better." He was all about efficient time usage.

Punchy pulls a pen out and writes the coordinates on his wrist, like either a disorganized high school student or a goddamn professional. Then he stands up and stuffs no less than the six remaining gummi worms into his mouth, swallowing them whole.

"You got a GPS or something? Or a map?"

Tim makes no comment, for better or for worse, about Punchy's 'organisation skills'. At least it works in the long run, for something like this. If he's going to lecture Punchy about safekeeping information he can do it later.

Still, he makes note of the coordinates himself, silently, pulling out his communicator from his belt.

"The communicators can serve that purpose," he answers simply, inputting the information as he walked. Save it no, instead of later.

Punchy whips out his comm - for all his technical skills, he still hasn't really sat down and explored all the functions. He finds the map function easily enough, though, and triangulates the location (which happens to be Kang's tavern).

"I ain't hit the streets here much. You know what joint the map's pointing us to?"

Tim nods to that, having found the location on his own comm as well. "I do," he says, cryptically at first. He's scouted out a chunk of the city, and he's made note of many of the more major and/or popular locations on his map. He side-eyes Punchy for a moment, as if debating, before he says, "It's the tavern. A lot of people going in or out so we likely can't narrow down anything that way."

"Don't worry, I won't start hitting the sauce or anything if you take me in public," he says, running his non-puppeted hand through his poofy hair. "Our homeboy said he was up in some lab shit, so it's gotta be a mirror signal. Still, can't hurt to see if it's got some kinda message or shit on it. Secret code, man."

Tim's incredulous look is subtle under the cowl, but he drops that subject quickly enough, instead focusing on the rest of what Punchy had to say as he headed out. "Of course. If nothing else, another set of data could well give us something to work with, help track down the original."

"Just let me get a crack at that bizzle first. You know. Since it's kinda my pet project now or some shizz." Why yes, Tim. He wants glory. His tale of cyberprowess and gummi worms will be known throughout the ages.

"Hnn." Tim intones noncommittally. Though to be fair, Tim couldn't care less about being in the spotlight or not (and, given the choice, would choose not to be). He'll let Punchy do as he pleases, provided that it doesn't interfere with progress. "We'll see how it goes."

downtime. honest. [open]

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FTB?

FTB: Detective-ing Edition