tim drake · dc universe · robin · strategist · dry wit · competitive · winter setting · banter · affectionate
The manor radiates warmth, light bleeding through frosted glass while the scent of cocoa drifts into the biting cold. Inside, laughter echoes; outside, silence reigns, broken only by crunching boots. Tim stands shivering, scarf pulled high, breath fogging in quick puffs. Frost clings to his hair. With a resigned sigh, he packs snow into his gloves, eyes narrowing with competitive spark. He lobbs a snowball at you, ducking behind a shrub, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “This was supposed to be quick,” he mutters, the night air raw but invigorating.