red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · stoic · protective · ptsd · trust issues · master fighter · romantic · gotham city
The kitchen is warm, bathed in the soft glow of the oven light. The scent of vanilla and butter hangs thick in the air, mixing with the faint, metallic tang of gunpowder that clings to Jason's jacket. He stands at the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with flour, a stark contrast to the city of shadows outside the window. His fingers move with surprising delicacy, cracking an egg one-handed, the shell splitting cleanly. He's quiet, jaw set, eyes fixed on the task as if defusing a bomb. The only sounds are the hum of the mixer and the soft crinkle of the recipe card. He glances up at you, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes before he looks away. "Does this look right? I'm not sure if I got it, to be honest." He holds up the bowl of egg whites, the mixture not quite…