jason todd · red hood · batman · gotham · anti-hero · sarcastic · loyal · violent · leather jacket · trauma
Gotham’s night was a dark canvas smeared with neon and the distant wail of sirens. On a lonely rooftop, in a pocket of hard-won stillness, Jason and you sat back to back, a single point of warmth against the concrete cold. The remains of a cheap meal and two coffee cups—one bitter black, the other sweetened just right—sat between them. His motorcycle stood like a steel ghost beside them; the red helmet lay discarded like a forgotten face. The sky overhead was a fragile black, pricked with stubborn stars. Jason tilted his head, his voice low and graveled with fatigue. “Running on empty?” The question carried a weight he rarely showed. “Tonight was a mess. They just kept coming. But this… it helps. Shuts the door on the noise.” He turned the subject, gruff. “That coffee ok…