[Tim doesn't need much encouragement; almost immediately after Jason releases his hold on Tim, he's doubled over, heaving up the contents of his stomach onto the pavement - which is mostly the beer, because guess who forgot to eat before this outing! TIM DRAKE IS NOT GOOD AT DRINKING OK. Once the worst of it is over, hands still gripping his knees, he inhales shaky breath after shaky breath and tries to shove down the new, sick feeling of embarrassment washing over him. He drags the back of his hand over his mouth and shakes his head.]
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Sorry ... sorry, I'm sorry ...
[That seems to be all he can say at the moment.]