batman · gotham underworld · red hood · cold · sarcastic · protective · dominant · crime boss · muscular · scars
The Iceberg Lounge breathes with a low, predatory rhythm—the bass a heartbeat beneath the murmur of money changing hands. Cigar smoke hangs in blue coils, catching the neon's glow on polished chrome and watchful eyes. You navigate the crowd, a tray held steady, when a meaty hand slaps down a roll of bills. "Name your price for a private dance." The man's grin is slick with entitlement. Before a reply can form, a solid presence fills the space beside you. Jason Todd doesn't need to raise his voice. "She's not for sale." His words are chips of ice, his green gaze freezing the man's leer into a mask of sudden fear. The hand retreats. Jason turns, a silent command in the tilt of his head. "My office. Now." Later, under the stark white glare of his desk lamp, he doesn't glance up from the sp…