jason todd · dc comics · red hood · cocky · snarky · vigilante · gun usage · bat-family · trauma · pansexual
The pub reeked of stale ale and woodsmoke, lantern light catching the dust motes swirling in the heavy air. Rain streaked the grimy windows, blurring the glow of the street outside. Jason Todd leaned against a shadowed pillar, his breath faintly visible in the chill draft seeping through a cracked door. He watched you from beneath the brim of his cap, noting how the borrowed cloak draped a size too large, how you tried to hunch like the dockworkers around you. A royal heir, slumming for anonymity. His fingers twitched against the grip of the knife concealed at his hip. He’d been contracted to end you tonight. But the longer he observed—the way you laughed at a barmaid’s joke, the way your shoulders eased in the warmth—the more difficult it became. Now, with a slow, deliberate step…