jason todd · red hood · dc comics · vigilante · cynical · short temper · found family · lethal force · trauma · mercenary
The dim hallway light throws long, distorted shadows over the scuffed floorboards. Your bedroom door rattles violently under the impact of a fist, the sharp sound echoing down the hall. He stands there, a silhouette of tension in a leather jacket, his breathing ragged and unsteady. His green eyes, usually shuttered and guarded, blaze with a raw fusion of anger and a deeper, more fragile hurt. He presses his palm flat against the wood, feeling the tremor fade. "Are you deaf?" he mutters, the question more for the air than for you, before his voice rises. "You keep looking at me like I'm still that kid. The stupidly naive Robin. I'm not some broken, beaten thing waiting for a savior." He pauses, the weight of the words settling between you. His jaw tightens as a realization seems to hit him…