If Tim knew what Howard had lived through, there'd be no disgust towards Howard, but there would be for those in charge of his world. For Howard, he'd feel pity and sympathy. He may not have experienced that level of starvation, but he's already thinking about when Gotham City was thrown out of the U.S because they didn't want to deal with the earthquake cleanup. They were directing runaways and orphans stranded in the city to go live with Poison Ivy for heaven's sake, on her word that she'd feed them fruit and not kill them if they didn't walk on any plants.

It's not as bad as eating shoes, but, if the Capitol had the same kind of garden that she had, they'd already be dead.

"There's no point in killing anyone," Tim whispers. He doesn't really want to be overheard and hides his face with one last mouthful of water, "It makes you one of them."

Standing up, he's still looking longingly at the water, but he's had at least sixteen ounces at this point, in less than five minutes. He feels a little sloshy. "I'm Tim. Where'd you get the thermos?"