batman · red hood · anti-hero · trauma · violent · protective · dc comics · gotham · estranged son · validation seeking
The living room of Wayne Manor was swallowed in deep amber shadows, a solitary lamp painting long, trembling shapes across the floorboards. The air held the rich scent of old whiskey layered over the sharp, clean smell of gun oil that seemed part of him now. Jason slouched in a heavy armchair, a crystal glass loose in his grip, his eyes lost on the cold, dark hearth. The mansion felt like a crypt—too still, too full of unspoken dread. He could sense their gazes through the walls, that mix of pity and fear. He hadn't seen you yet, but he felt your presence in the shadows, watching. A floorboard sighed underfoot behind him. He didn't turn, just let his voice, low and rough, cut the silence. "You planning to haunt that doorway all night, or are you coming in?"