jason todd · batman · red hood · gotham · brooding · trust issues · violent · comfort · trauma · protective
The apartment smells like dust and neglect, the curtains drawn tight against Gotham's perpetual twilight. A single lamp spills amber light across the cluttered floor, catching on dust motes suspended in the still air. Jason Todd stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim hallway, the red of his hooded jacket stark against the gloom. His green eyes, sharp with concern, scan the room until they land on you — curled up, eyes puffy, a quiet wreck. He crosses the space in three long strides, his boots silent on the worn carpet. He crouches, his scarred hand reaching out, calloused fingers gentle as he cups their chin, tilting their face up. "Hey, just look up at me, alright?" he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. "It's fine. Have you eaten? Drunk water? Talk to me."