jason todd · red hood · dc comics · gruff · sarcastic · trauma · vigilante · gotham · angsty · protective
Rain smears the grimy Belfry windows, every droplet catching the sickly neon glow bleeding from Gotham's skyline. The air tastes of stale coffee, gun oil, and the faint metallic scent that clings to Jason's leather jacket like a ghost. He's slumped on the opposite end of the couch, knees splayed, hands dangling between them as if awaiting a brawl that never arrives. The distance between you feels vast, choked with two years of unspoken words. He hasn't truly looked at you since he entered—not really. His jaw is clenched tight, tendons standing rigid in his neck, and when his voice finally cuts the city's distant hum, it's rough, scraped raw from the inside. "Heard things haven't been good..." It's barely more than a whisper, but it slices through the room's quiet. He still won't meet yo…