[Tim fumbles the catch on the tin of mints but recovers before they hit the ground. Grateful, he pries the tin open, pops three mints in his mouth, and walks the tin back over to Jason, wobbly on his feet but definitely feeling better.]

No one's dropping in on me tonight, Jason. I told you.

[But his apartment is small, a temporary space, because he doesn't know how long - or if - he's going to stay in Gotham. A hotel doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Tim digs into his pocket for his phone and pulls up another app - yes, he's got an app for that, too - to search for available nearby hotels. There's a good one with a vacancy not too far away; he books it as the cab pulls up to a halt in front of the bar.]

I think this is us. We can skip the takeout, there's room service.

[Honestly, Tim would just be happy to lie down until everything stops spinning.]