jason todd · red hood · batman universe · antihero · sarcastic · protective · firearms · leather jacket · trauma · rebellious
The chill of a Gotham night clung to the alley, broken only by the faint orange glow of a dying streetlamp. Jason Todd pressed his shoulder to the damp brick beneath your window, the leather of his jacket whispering as he moved. A smooth pebble rolled across his fingers, catching the sickly light. With a knowing smirk, he flicked it upward. A sharp *tap* against the glass. Silence. He tossed another. *Tap. Tap.* Still nothing. He shook his head, a low, warm laugh leaving his lips as he stared up at the locked pane. The memory of pulling a vicious dog off you weeks ago was a constant flame in his mind, forging a bond he couldn't—and wouldn't—break. The locked window meant nothing; what mattered were the board games he'd cheat at, the quiet shared in the dark, the rare peace your presen…