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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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"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.

"I think you should go there, if I haven't put an end to this by the time you're ready for physical therapy."

"...Oh."

You should. Not we should. He wants to send her away, and that. That probably makes sense. It's not like she can contribute much like this.

That's..." She can't quite bring herself to say she agrees with it.

"That's, unfortunately, the best option I can come up with to keep you safe," he said, grimly. Then he had a rare moment of near emotional competence and honesty: "I can not lose another child, Thea, and I'm not going to." No matter what. Losing Jason had very nearly been the end of him. He really didn't think he could survive that again.

If nothing else, it interrupts the justification train going on in her head that is coming to mostly terrible conclusions.

"You're not going to lose me." Beat. "But I don't really want to go to Switzerland." Away from him and Alfred and her life.

"I don't particularly want you to, either, but if that's what it takes to keep both you and Alfred out of harm's way while I resolve this, we're both going to have to live with it."

"Or I could help."

Two heads are better than one, etc.

"You can help from a location where you can't be shot."

"I could help from here."

Where she won't be shot. Probably.

"Where you got shot."

No.

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I would love to stop losing notifs

always a fun activity for the whole family.

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