He grinned.
The room he led her to was messy in a different sort of way— a mad genius way, rather than a-bunch-of-little-terrors-live-here way. The desk on the side held a computer, a stack of books and notebooks, and a bunch of random science stuff. The floor held the same (besides the computer), plus some printed photographs, bits of leftover red string (whatever wasn’t pinned on the wall… though the pictures it connected didn’t seem to go together at all), developed film photographs, pages of books, little half-finished gadgets, assorted nuts, bolts, and screws, and a stack of used plates that could probably be a science experiment of their own.
The man at the desk had messy black hair, just like Bat (Bat’s hair was generally slightly more tidy, though), but he was far thinner, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The resemblance was there, if you looked closely, but this man’s face was harder than Bat’s. More angular.
Until he lit up, which he did as soon as he noticed them enter. Then he looked somehow exactly like his son. He dropped his project, hopped free of his seat, and knocked over several stacks of books before he hugged Bat— carefully, like he was worried his son woukd break into pieces.
Bat grinned and hugged his father back, wondering if he should be embarrassed or something.
Honestly, he didn’t really care.
Mr. Whitlock let go after a second and held out his skinny hand to shake Tam’s. “Mr. Doctor Whitlock, how do you do?”