"He’s never mentioned you." Not as far as Tim could remember, anyway. His jaw tensed. "If you know what happened to my dad, why are you carrying the weapon that killed him? Why would you do that, if we were so close?"
"I…don’t know," Owen’s shoulders slumped. "I never thought about it, I guess."
[Text; The Sleepover Club] I remain unconvinced about the necessity of a ‘deep conditioning protein pack’ for my hair.
[Text; The Sleepover Club] What is this stuff even supposed to do?
[Text] Give your hair its healthy shine, prevent split ends, and keep your luscious locks vibrant.
Y— ..God, I’ve missed you so much, Owen.
Give me a towel,
Well I would… but this is the only one I’ve got, so this will be awkward.
"Don’t you dare defend that witchskank—! She stole him and everything I— …Just Don’t.”
"I’m not defending her, twerp. I’m chastising your casual misogyny. Who stole who now? You’re not making any sense. As usual."
"My dad died because a guy with boomerangs broke into our house and murdered him. And you want me to believe I gave you a key?” Tim’s expression dropped flat to something mutinous. “I don’t even know a Jason.”
"I know what happened to your dad." Owen’s voice was small and the burly red-head seemed to shrink into himself. "Believe me. I know all about it. If you don’t know Jason, ask Dick. He knows about you and me. I mean, maybe not the kiss, but the fact that we’re, y’know. Partners…"
"Nope." Owen folded his arms over his chest. "Whatever ridiculous idea you have, I’m not going along with it.”
"Resolution pixel scanning stuff," Tim repeated, deadpan. He wasn’t starting to relax around the stranger. He wasn’t.
He crossed his arms. “If that was our first kiss, why do you already have a key to my apartment?”
"Because we’re partners, Tim," Owen scratched his head again. "When you gave me the key you told me it’s so I can check up on you and watch your back. We go out into the night to fight bad guys almost every night. Ask Dick. Or Jason."
Tim didn’t take the bait to look away and check his own phone, but he did cautiously glance at Owen’s. That was… Well, it was definitely a photo of him, but- “Photos can be manipulated. I don’t remember any of these. I don’t know you.”
He scrolled through some more of the pictures, out of curiosity, and paused on the last one. His eyes widened. “Wait, when you said partners…”
Owen furrowed his brow. “You really don’t remember? That’s us, that’s really us. Download ‘em and do your, uh, resolution pixel scanning stuff. They’re real.”
At that last one, Owen’s face reddened. “Uh…I mean like we work together but, um…”
He scratched his head and looked away. “That was our first kiss.”
"Apparently I destroyed some of his books.. I have no memory of that though. Fucking jackass, blames me for everything." "…Also I kind of hurt a ‘friend’ of his. Hah! But she deserved everything. Bitch…”
"Whoa, whoa, hey, rude much? With an attitude like that, no wonder you hurt her. You don’t call women bitches, no matter how nasty they are."