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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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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.

He may not want Robin involved, but Tim isn't going to sit around and be content to be left in the dark. "How about 'I'd rather not sit around not knowing what happened'?"

Because if someone is honestly trying to attack her, she wants to know, Bruce. Don't even try to lock her out of this.

"You weren't the primary target," he said, somewhat tersely. Not annoyed, just tense. "They were shooting at you with the intent of getting to Bruce Wayne. Sending a message." Fine. She wanted to know and yes that made him feel just fantastic and made it really likely to ever let her out of his sight again.

Well, in Gotham. Switzerland might make for a nice vacation. For several years.

That's actually kind of reassuring. Because at least no one was targeting Timothea Drake-Wayne for her own sake. "At least they're not just psychotically enraged by teenage girls." That's comforting, right?

Given some of the people they ...came across, that was comforting. "No, just spoiled rich men, which is much more reasonable. " He wasn't even joking. "I don't have a name yet. When I do, you will. And when I have him, you'll know that, too." The shooter and the person behind it. "I don't want them to have an opportunity to try again."

"They won't."

She has full and certain faith that there's no chance in hell the shooter is getting near her again. Not while Bruce is around.

"No," he agreed, "they won't. Especially since you appear to be keeping a level head about it." And letting him wrap her in a bubble for the time being.

"I'm also still pretty high," she points out helpfully.

Just. In case he forgot. She's going to start objecting to that bubble eventually.

"I intend to keep you that way as long as I can, and work as fast as I can." While mostly staring at her. Though since she is high: "How do you feel about Switzerland?"

"...traditionally good chocolate?" she ventures after a moment.

"Really good physical therapists and medical care."

"Okay...?" She's not really following, Bruce, sorry.

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I would love to stop losing notifs

always a fun activity for the whole family.

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