He didn't see the blush, but he could smell it. The hot rush of blood coming to the skin. Just a touch of embarrassment but something else that felt a little like pride. He immediately wanted to pull the praise away...but he didn't. He didn't because Tim deserved it, no matter what his own injured pride said.

He'd never been a particularly good Robin, after all. He'd tried, sure, but Dick had left impossible pixie boots to fill. At least Tim had had the good sense to redesign the uniform.

"It's not worth the amount of travel. If I have a rogue shifter or vampire or other supernatural baddie, I deal with them out in the woods where I have room to really protect myself against them, but most of the time?" He waved a hand at their surroundings. "I'm good here."

A city block. A wolf the size of a pony confined to the magical equivalent of a kennel the size of a city block. It was no wonder his shoulder knots had knots.

"Huh. Well, that is pretty impressive. I wonder if it's a personalized thing? Or a trait of your particular flavor of magic? Because I've for sure seen mages go up in their own flames. Or maybe that was just how they burned out, poured too much of themselves into it?" He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, but the curiosity was clear in those pale blue eyes.

Tim wasn't the only one who had a burning need to learn, apparently.