Watching the Doctor

** February 21, 2015:** Robin stakes out a hospital, Spoiler comes by

Gotham ED

On a roof opposite the hospital



Mood Music:

It should be no surprise to anybody that at midnight on a Saturday, a horribly cold February night (haven't they all been terribly cold?) Robin is up on a rooftop far too late and far too early in the year for the birds that are his namesake. Of course, he might note, if asked, that Dick Grayson didn't take the name from the birds at all, but it's neither here nor there, is it?

So here he is, his cape pulled around him for extra warmth and the hood, which he almost never uses, up to protect his ears. Atop Gotham General Hospital and crouched over the emergency room entrance, staring downward as if he's expecting something.

It's Gotham. The ER is ALWAYS busy.

Stephanie had walked her mother to work, her hands deep in the pockets of her hoodie. Her outfit is in the backpack, her blonde hair up in a high ponytail, bouncing as she walks. She pauses for her mother to talk to her, and she nods, giving a nod before she turns away. Her gaze lifts, scanning the rooftops, a habit nowadays. That movement shows her face.

Robin identifies her from this distance. He doesn't wave. That might draw the attention of others who he doesn't want noticing him. Given the current status of their relationship, for that matter, he doesn't know that he wants Spoiler to notice him either. This is one of those problems with Tim Drake: when things get troublesome in his personal life, or if his personal life starts to intersect with his night life too much, he has a habit of cutting out and letting go. But he sees her. And while he's hard to see, wrapped in a black cape as he is, the hint of golden inner lining is there, and were she looking for it, she might see it.

He's not hiding from her, either.

She sees him, her gaze fixed on him for a long moment before she turns, walking away towards the side of the hospital, heading for a place to change. Two minutes later, and she is scaling that wall, her clothes carefully secreted behind a rubbish can. The egg plant coloured cape blends into the darker shadows as she approaches him, her blonde hair peeking out from the hood, her blue eyes watching him from behind the mask. "So."

"There's a homeless guy hanging out behind the dumpster next to that trash can where you left your coat," says Robin, still peering down toward the ER entrance. "You might want to get it back before he finds it, Spoiler." His tone is as tight as it almost always is when he's wearing the cape and the mask. He's moving very little, trying to avoid being seen by anybody out there — with the possible exception of Spoiler, of course. "So," he adds after a moment. His head turns slightly toward her. Just slightly.

"Gee, Steph, I missed you. I was watching your mother just in case you came by." Her voice is quieter but the snark is back, her lips tightening, as she leans back against a chimney, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh wait…" Sarcasm now, Spoiler is graduating, "You run away instead, don't you? Which means something else is going on in the hospital." There is something under the sarcasm, a touch of hurt, but there is not a hope in hell that Spoiler is going to show that.

Robin is quiet. This is hardly a surprise. He learned from the best, didn't he? Batman does not generally communicate much in words. It hurts his air of mystery. Eventually, though, he says, "Yes. I missed you." That's probably all she's getting out of him for the moment, though, at least in that regard. "And your mother could be in danger."

Spoiler drops her arms, pushing off from the chimney and ending up next to him, crouched there, her gaze on the hospital. "Missed you too." Casually spoken and she turns her head, studying him, "So fill me in?" She moves past the fight, bluntly asking details, and nudging him with her booted foot, a playful gesture.

There's a very faint hint of a smile on Robin's face when she comes closer, nudges his foot with her own. Yeah. He likes her. Even if they have been fighting. "There's a doctor here. John Beckett. Young. Just finished his internship in Keystone, but he's a Gotham boy. And his college and med school education were funded by a rather wealthy and not-so-legitimate member of Gotham society."

"Yeah?" She leans against him, the movement subtle, her gaze on the hospital now. Her lips, under the mask, are curving up into a smile. "So, he is a paid up, full owned plant or something?" The question has no snark to it now, her interest caught. "What are you expecting him to do? Put on a purple cape and come out as morphine man?" Ok, perhaps a little snark.

Her sudden presence not just at his side but against it causes a hint of hesitation in Robin. A moment where he knows if he speaks he'll stumble over his own tongue, and thus he says nothing to avoid that problem. When he does speak he says, "I think he's feeding information on patients to his benefactor," he says. "I need proof. That's illegal in itself. But I'm more worried about how his benefactor is going to use that information."

She turns her head, giving him a look that has a whole world of mischief in it before she replies, "So how do you think you'll prove it up here?" The nudge is repeated, and she kicks his foot with her boot, a light movement. "Unless you were looking for something else." A hint of snark, but teasing, almost a silent request for him to admit he was really here to find her.

Except he wasn't. That this is her mother's hospital made it possible for them to encounter each other tonight, but he really wasn't here to find her. "I'm waiting for him to come on duty," Robin says. "His shift was supposed to start half an hour ago, but he hasn't punched in yet." He stops a moment, looks at her, and then sighs and tosses his cape around her as well. "Steph," he says, "I'm not going to lie to you. I wasn't here looking for you. But I'm glad you saw me and came up."

She glances at the hospital, turning her head away, just for a moment. "And you're going to do what, when he punch in?" She turns her head back, giving him a look, leaning into him, under the cape. Then she lifts her face towards him, inviting a kiss but not forcing the issue. "I look up at rooftops all the time nowadays."

Here Robin displays the hand opposite Steph, showing the souped-up tablet he's holding. Not as big as an iPad, it'd fit neatly into one of the pouches on his belt. "I know his log-in," he says, "and I can track what he's doing when he logs in." When he glances back at her he sees the position of her face, close to his. They were fighting so recently — even if he doesn't entirely remember what that was about. He's still got worries. But he tucks his tablet away anyway and leans in to press his lips to hers. Through the mask, of course.

He can feel her smile that time, and she doesn't push it further, leaving her mask down, but turning her head to lean on his shoulder. "So we stalk him, digitally, and then we work out what he does and get him?" She pulls his cape over her, snuggling into it, the black better for stalking doctors. She is quiet then, her gaze on the hospital.

The black is also probably better insulated than her own costume, all things considered. Between Bruce Wayne's resources and his own, Robin has developed a costume that generally keeps him warm on even these ridiculously cold nights. When she snuggles into him, leans his head on his shoulder, he puts his arm around her waist and holds her there. Extra body heat is nothing to complain about. Especially when it comes from Stephanie. "Pretty much the idea," he says. "I want to make sure that the information he's sending out is going to who I think is receiving it. And maybe I can do that by digital stalking… but it may require some face-to-face confrontation down the road."

Her stuff has been updated a little, mostly from his help, and she listens, considering his words. "Who do you think it is? Why?" The softer question comes as she smiles, watching the hospital, but the curve of her lips is an obvious thing. Her hand slides across, seeking his free hand, a small gesture.

Robin's hand clasps hers when he feels her reach for it, and he squeezes her fingers gently, gloves between them. "I think it might be the Penguin," he says. "But I could be wrong. There are plenty of folks in Gotham who have the money to do that sort of thing. Not all of them are our typical baddies… but a lot of them are."

Her smile fades, and she pulls a face, her gaze on the hospital now. "Why would he? I mean, what can you do with that type of information?" She returns the squeeze, turning her head to shoot him a glance, her blue eyes holding a frown now.

"There's a lot of information available to doctors," replies Robin. "Allergies. Mental and psychological issues. Some guy's allergic to peanuts, make sure one gets into his next order of Chinese food. If somebody's seriously depressed, faking a suicide won't look suspicious." He shrugs, turning his face back to hers. "This is the biggest hospital in the city. Not everything goes through here… but a lot does. And even if there's nothing that can easily be used to make a hit look less suspicious, a person's pretty vulnerable when they're in the hospital."

"Hmmm." The sound is soft and she rests her chin on her free hand, studying it for a moment before she turns back to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "So what can I do to help? I can go in and out of there, you know…" Her mother being there, she can get in and out without anyone commenting, even with help.

"For now," Robin replies, "I'm trying to stick to the digital route… but if this doesn't work, I may have a job for you. In your civilian guise, no less." He pauses. "But Beckett still hasn't come in today. And that's starting to worry me. Pretty sure he didn't call in…"

"So we go and find him." A simple reply, and she is moving in the next instant, sliding backwards, sliding from under his cape, her grin shot towards him, a silent dare. "Come on then." Impatient as ever.

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