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It's not an interesting event. Boring as hell, actually, and Tim might have spent the last hour or so trying not to let her attention glaze over entirely, but being here is one of the occupational hazards of being Bruce's adopted child. At least she has years' worth of practice from being the Drake daughter to call upon in her hour of need. (Several hours, technically, and she might be counting down the minutes until she can reasonably leave.)

And then it's... It feels almost like someone smashed her arm with a sledgehammer. There's noise and sensation and pressure but nothing quite connects, even when she looks down at her arm and sees she's bleeding through her stupidly expensive dress. For a second, she thinks - should've worn the Robin suit, and she turns to Bruce, ready to say something stupid about the cost-benefit analysis of high fashion versus body armor if she could only get her voice to work.

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Any self-respecting billionaire playboy would have responded to the sound of a gunshot by hitting the ground and panicking. He didn't do that. His head whipped around to the direction the shot had come from, either while their other guests were screaming and panicking. He saw someone running through the crowd and tensed to follow but caught sight of Tim, bleeding first and put it off. One hard look would let him remember the person's face, build, movement. Later.

Tim was way more important to him Tim bleeding made his heart stop and then race, and that was... damned unusual as a lack of control. His sprint took him to her, hand clamped over the wound in her arm hard, and he more or less yelled for someone to call the police. What he could do with this right now - Bruce Wayne had been attacked, not Batman. (Or Timothea Wayne, not Robin).

Then he turned his attention back to Tim. "We're going to the floor, okay?" Better for blood pressure.

It's a good idea, especially since she's not sure she'll stay upright for much longer anyway. He might have to do most of the maneuvering if he doesn't want them to end up in a graceless heap, though. "Okay," she manages to say, sounding hurt and lost and is that really what her voice sounds like? It's a little pathetic, not very Robin-esque at all. Except she doesn't have to be Robin right now, does she? She hopes he doesn't expect her to be, because Robin's not supposed to distract Batman from the criminals. She's not doing very well at it if she's supposed to be trying.

He's fine doing the manipulation and controlling their descent to the floor; Tim doesn't weigh that much and he's certainly had practice dealing with dead-weight. Once he's got her down he works most on keeping some pressure on the wound, too acutely aware of the way her blood is staining his hands.

He was on one knee when they settled, her head against one of his arms. He was looking in the direction the gunman had run, but quickly turned his attention back to her. That arm was likely broken, almost definitely, and it was in an area where there was certain to be bleeding concerns. Hence his continued, tight, grip.

"Paramedics should be here soon. I need you to stay awake until then." He was not going to let her die. That she'd been shot in the arm rather than chest didn't matter, currently. Guns and shooting and blood and he was, in a very Bruce like way, freaking out.

She was going to be smothered to death if they made it out of here.

He's saying things again, but it's hard to focus. She catches a couple words, paramedics and awake. Staying awake sounds like a terrible idea right now, with more pain creeping past the shock into her awareness. If she's asleep, she can ignore it. Still, he asked, so she's willing to at least try to keep her eyes open.

She mumbles out "tired", though. So he doesn't worry if she just takes a nap. She's just sleepy.

"You're in shock." That's comforting, right? She's not going to die. She's probably not going to die? She's going to die. Those various thoughts are all arranged neatly from most optimistic to least, and from most logical to most emotional. "You can't go to sleep yet. You have to hang on until the paramedics get here and get you to the hospital." ...Does he ever sound that baldly desperate? No, no he does not.

Somewhere in the crowd nearby a camera flashed. Bruce did not care.

Oh. Well. That makes sense. He's probably in shock, too. Different kind of shock. People getting shot has that effect.

"Oh," she says faintly. She can stay awake, right? Maybe. Not really. Her eyes keep drifting shut and then opening again.

Luckily, when Gotham's civil servants hear that one of the wealthiest families in Gotham has been attacked, they move fast. They probably won't have to wait long, even if it feels like it.

Different kind of shock, and with a health dose of fear. Possibly even something turning to anger, though not at her. Just how he always copes, but right now it's too raw.

He stays with her, panicking in a very quiet way while more than one person takes a picture and most of them hang back until the paramedics arrive and Bruce... absolutely refuses to let her go to the hospital alone and is in the back of hte ambulance with her, though actually doing a decent job of staying out of the way while they take care of her.

The good news is, the bullet went straight through and didn't do any damage that's going to permanently ruin the use of her arm, although she's definitely in for a fun ride in surgery, recovery, and probable physical therapy. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Eventually, she's moved to her own private room (because, well, Wayne), so he can do his panicking in relative peace until she wakes up.

He didn't panic in her room, thankyouverymuch. He paced. He paced and annoyed every person on the medical staff who came near him and might have information, made phone calls to the police and was more than slightly obnoxious, and may or may not have made less than veiled threats of violence when a reporter made the unwise decision to approach him while he was on his way up to her room.

By the time she was out of surgery he was actually sitting down. Not holding her hand, not touching her, just staring at her with more intensity than anyone who didn't literally shoot lasers out their eyes should be able to manage.

That would probably be way more disconcerting to wake up to if she wasn't on an impressive amount of painkillers. As it is, she takes her adopted father's attempt to develop heat vision more or less in side.

"...Bruce?"

She also has the benefit of familiarity with that look, though drugs are probably the most useful.

His gaze sharpens further when it moves to her face, and then - nods. "Yes." Who else? "How are you feeling?"

Well. You never know. He could have been a vivid hallucination. Or someone masquerading as Bruce. It could happen!

She takes a little longer than necessary to consider that question. "Float-y." Seems like an accurate description.

"For now, that's a good thing." It meant the drugs were working, and pain wasn't making much of an appearance yet. "You'll need to be here for another day or two."

And have physical therapy after, but. One step at a time.

She might giggle a little. Maybe. She would not attest to it in court. (The drugs are definitely working.)

"So how long am I getting out of public events for?"

The drugs were definitely working, and he was just a little concerned about that. Mostly he was glad. "There will be press waiting on you as soon as you leave the hospital." Not that kind of public event, Bruce. "Otherwise, you should be excused from nearly everything for the next eight to twelve weeks."

Not quite what she meant, either. (Would she consider exploiting this incident to get out of as many boring future public events as she can? Yes. Maybe. She might feel a little bit guilty about it.)

And she makes a face. "That's going to make school fun."

His answer also applied for that thing she did mean, probably, but he isn't going to discuss that in too much detail, here. He isn't drugged. Unfortunately for the medical staff.

"We'll hire someone to take notes for you and to come in and tutor you until you're ready to go back." And he could let Tim out of his sight again.

She's going to get her fill of daughter-daddy bonding time, isn't she.

"Ives'll probably give me his notes." Also, a bunch of nerdy media to catch up on while she's recovering. She kind of looks forward to that part. Being a vigilante doesn't leave as much time as you might like for recreation.

She's going to have her fill of bonding time before she's released from the hospital. Probably. If he actually manages to bond instead of panic and loom.

"We'll make arrangements after you're released from the hospital." Not now. For now he was going to carry on, well, looming. Closely. "Until the shooter is caught, there is a guard at your door. If he isn't apprehended by the time you are released, the guard comes home with us."

That makes sense. Even if a guard isn't likely to provide that much more protection than having Batman looming around you worriedly. "Do we know anything? About the shooter?"

"I asked the Commissioner to contact me with any information, but I haven't heard back." The guard was more for appearances than protection. Alfred was better protection in most ways, but it had been Bruce Wayne who's party had been crashed and daughter had been shot. That made things rather more difficult for the time being.

He'd do his own research, though, once they were home. Which would be when she was released. ...He should get someone to bring him a change of clothes, though. The bloody ones were disturbing.

He really, really should. It's a good thing she is so drugged because it hasn't really occurred to her that he hasn't changed. He can do that after she drifts off to sleep, which is riiiight about now.

Happily for her, all she's expected to say to the press is effectively "not dead yet" while people ask appropriate sympathetic-sounding questions. It doesn't take long to get through, after which she is free to go to Wayne Manor and be in pain in the comfort of her own room. And pester Bruce for information. "Do we know anything new?"

(It's too early for the no really I'm okay enough to do the thing/no really you're not wars, but, much like winter, they're coming.)

He's looking forward to winter more than he's looking forward to those wars. He'll take the lack of them for now.

"I have heard very little directly from Gordon, but I know that the information is there, and is being... retrieved." In short, he'd hacked the hell out of Gotham Police's computer system and had no shame about it at all. "Why do you want to know?" Because he wasn't letting her go after the guy. No way, no how. He was going to to handle it.

"Why wouldn't I want to know?"

Someone shot her. And not even Robin, someone shot Timothea Drake-Wayne. Come on, Bruce. There is no actual way she's going to stay away from this case, if only because she needs to know what the hell happened now.

"I can't think of a single reason you wouldn't want to know, but I can think of multiple reasons you would and some of them are more acceptable than others, at the moment."

She had been shot. As herself. His daughter. He was still quietly falling to pieces about that, but he was also not about to let Robin get near it. It wasn't likely right now, but that just meant he wanted the whole thing wrapped before she was healthy enough for that to be a serious consideration.