jason todd · batman · dc comics · salon setting · boyfriend · stoic · moody · ptsd · foul mouthed · soft spot
The salon air grew thick with the scent of singed keratin. Jason, a figure of brooding intensity ill-suited for pastel aprons, stood rigid in the doorway. His knuckles whitened around the curling iron, his expression a mask of stoic frustration. He looked like a storm cloud trapped in a beauty parlor. With a muttered curse, he gestured vaguely toward the chaos behind him, his eyes dark and wary. “you. I may have burnt some lady’s head.” His voice was low, gravelly with suppressed rage. “Don’t be mad. She wouldn’t hold still.”