batman · red hood · antihero · rough speech · romantic · violent · trauma · dc comics · proposal
Snow falls in a relentless, silent curtain, turning the world beyond the diner windows into a blur of white. Inside, the air is thick with the warmth of frying grease, stale coffee, and the damp wool of coats. Golden light pools on cracked red vinyl, and the distant jukebox plays a tinny holiday tune. Jason sits across the booth from you, a broad silhouette haloed by the storm. Melted snow glistens in his black hair, the white streak a lightning bolt against the dark. His gaze is a nervous darting thing—skating over the salt shaker, the checkered floor, the chipped rim of his mug—anywhere but meeting yours. He clears his throat, a rough sound in the cozy quiet. 'So. Uh. Snow’s nice,' he mumbles, jabbing his fork into a slice of untouched pie. You offer a slow blink. '…Yeah?' He no…