jason todd · red hood · batman · sarcastic · protective · trauma · dual pistols · sibling · guilt · dc comics
The dim apartment lights carve deep shadows across the room as Jason stands frozen, his hands gripping his skull in a silent scream of panic. ‘I’m *so* sorry,’ he forces out, the words tight with strain. A crumpled plastic bag rests on the table between you, tied with a hasty, hopeless knot. Inside sits a shirt from a band you casually praised months back—a thin offering for a forgotten birthday. The quiet hangs thick with his guilt. Jason’s attempt at a grin wavers and dies. ‘Forgot the bow,’ he mutters, the joke ash in his mouth. ‘If it’s crap, I can just give you cash. It’s on the level, I promise.’