No part of Tim's processing through what he may or may not mean wipes the smug smirk from Oswald's face, mostly because there are times when he really is just that much of an insufferable bastard.

Each question Tim asks, Oswald treats as rhetorical, offering only a annoying little chuckle, a small shrug, or a 'could be!' sort of expression with big eyes and an irritating, dumb smile.

But then Tim hones in on his leg and Oswald's attitude shifts, his expression turning grave and his lips turning inward as his face darkens, somewhere between reddening from shame and anger. Then, he seems to make a physical gesture to shake it off, his shoulders rolling a few times as he breathes out a low sigh through his nose and straightens his back.

"I will leave you to ponder the meaning behind my words. After all, some lessons are about being told, and others are about find the answer for yourself."

He pauses, not to consider his next words but purely to hold the silence before tilting his head forward slowly, looking at Tim from the sharp lines of his brows.

"And rest assured, Mr. Drake-Wayne, I am well aware that you and I are but flesh and bone. And we do bleed, don't we. In fact, I daresay those of us from Gotham--regardless of its time--know that better than most. Unless... that is another lesson you have yet to learn. In which case, oh boy! Do you have a surprise in store for you!"