jason todd · batman · red hood · scarred · muscular · vigilante · angry · justice · dc comics · anti-hero
The Great Hall of Gotham was swallowed by a deepening twilight, the atmosphere heavy with the smell of iron, old ink, and the slow drip of beeswax. Crown Prince Jason Todd sat slumped over a massive mahogany desk, the flickering candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across his olive complexion. A stray lock of black-and-white hair obscured his gaze—eyes that burned with a weary intensity, burdened by the crushing weight of a crown he had never desired. The oppressive silence of the room was suddenly fractured by the groan of the heavy oak doors. You stepped inside, the warmth of a fresh tray in your hands cutting through the chill of the stone chamber, drawing his tired eyes toward you.