Your character is superstitious or sentimental about a piece of clothing. What is it? When do they wear it? Why does it mean something to them?

He ducked his head down low, back pressed firmly against the bead board of the wall. He began to regulate his breathing and dropped his head back against the wood, waiting. Someone could say perhaps that Tim was being overly cautious, that it was silly of him to regulate his breathingwith a man well in his years.

But Timothy Drake knew better. It was the under cautious ones that got Alfred's wraith. The man may be rather old, but he was just as up to par as the fittest of them if anybody took Tim's opinion into account. There was no doubt in his mind that Al could and would find him.

One of the props of being a eleven year old crime fighting vigilante, though, was that he had the ability to stall and postpone Al finding him until he'd properly taken care of what he needed to. In this case? It was the much dreaded and avoided season of the year, the one having to do entirely with spring cleaning.

Alfred meant business when he went into spring cleaning. Every inch of the enormous mansion (excluding everything under it, because there would definitely be heated bickering over that) was cleaned to an inch of its life, every spoon was polished, every crack free of any dirt, the highest or smallest of furniture was wiped down, even the trim on the roofwas wiped down and given a new coat of paint. Oh the paint... don't get him started on the paint. In fact, Tim wouldn't be surprised if he left a print of himself in the wood.

But, again, he wasn't worried about being caught. Oh, he'd get caught, he'd get caught and given the most severe of looks by the caretaker of everybody who lived with Bruce Wayne, including Bruce himself. It was more than worth it though. Tim had to succeed.

The sharp, orderly footsteps had turned down the previous hallway from what he could hear. Tim pushed away quickly from the wall, relieved to notice it was still it's same old self, not freshly painted with an imprint of Tim's back and sloppy hair. He made it down the hallway and turned into one of the guest rooms as everybody dubbed it. But it was just another rarely used room, in a place too big for the few people who occupied it.

For now it was his escape. Just going to his room wouldn't be enough. Alfred expected that. He'd follow Tim and then head him off, effectively ruining his plans. No, he got Al to follow him and then darted out of sight. Now was phase two, getting in his room. How? Any inquiring mind might ask, but Tim had it covered. This guest room was on the right wing of the house and he pushed open the window, cringing as it creaked loudly. He threw his head over his shoulder, but Alfred didn't appear in the doorway to bust him.

He crawled out of it with practiced ease, settling carefully on the ledge. He shifted the screen back into position and then started to climb up the side of the building. All of the perks that went along with his costume and masked identity, weren't with him. But Tim had been running roofs, climbing buildings, and jumping fences long before Bruce was in his life.

Finally, with a glance over the landscape(as an afterthought climbing the side of a billionaire's house might have been a bad idea) he pulled at the screen of his window and slipped inside. He was glad he didn't take to locking it, but who needed to here...

Tim pushed his head back to focus, this was of far more importance. There was a side effect to all the 'great', wonderful cleaning Al went through. Last year he'd been naive, last year he'd been tricked, innocent and confused... this year, Tim was ahead of the game. Not too ahead... Al had started unannounced and he was out on patrol. In his excitement for finally being through with his training... he'd forgotten all about Spring's arrival of Al's crazy cleaning sprees. He was also tricked by cookies, but that had nothing to do with anything.

What had everything to do with things... was Tim going over to prop a chair up over the doorknob before frantically looking for a hiding place among his mess that Alfred would never look. The roof's weren't moveable here, or the floorboards, the bed was solid and didn't have any holes... damn! He should have used the BatCave... hid them by the side of the giant penny...

Aha! The most obvious place... and also the trickiest. Tim darted over with his prize, jumping up to grab the basket of socks on the top of his shelf. He tore through them, un-balling a pair of socks. He dropped on one the floor and taking up the socks he'd been carrying past Alfred. He balled up his sock with the good sock and then repeated it with his other sock.

Tim grinned successfully as he meticulously placed the socks back in the bin, up on the shelf exactly where it had been. He shut the doors quietly and jumped over to the entrance to his room. He removed the desk chair from the door and pulled it back to his desk. He double checked there was no scuff marks and then grabbing up some papers, he dropped down on his bed. It bounced twice and he pulled a pencil from the side of his lamp, pushing some of the clutter around on the nightstand as he did so.

By the time the door opened ten minutes later, revealing none other than Alfred, Tim was busily working away at his homework, nearly finished with his math. He looked up innocently, playing casual...

"Hey Al, what's up?"

The older man studied Tim for a moment and he was determined not to break under the man's pressure. Cops, Batman, and a huge array of people couldn't get Tim... but the look in Al's eyes sometimes, he could undo anybody... but he wasn't going to use that power today. Instead he settled Tim with a knowing look and a small smile quirked up onto his face.

"Well played, Master Drake," Alfred said, winking at him before he turned away from the door. Tim grinned widely and punched a fist into the air. The door started to swing back open and Tim scrambled through the air for a moment to regain his balance from his near embarrassing moment. "But you forgot to shut the window two floors below."

Tim blinked for a moment, mind darting over his narrow escape earlier and... Al was right. The older man smiled wryly at him once and then shut the door again, leaving Tim with a grin of another sort. Okay... so Alfred got him... but Tim's lucky, life-saving, bullet dodging, warm socks were still here for another year! They'd see about next spring cleaning...