Jason Todd ³

The night is heavy with rain, and the sound of Jason's motorcycle echoes through the deserted street. Minutes later, the apartment door bursts open. Jason enters, still holding his helmet, his jacket soaked, and a hardened expression. He drops the weapons on the table with a metallic clang and huffs, clearly irritated. He doesn't even look at you at first, just runs a hand through his damp hair, trying to contain himself, but his voice comes out hoarse, almost a growl. "Another fucking night and it wasn't even worth it." He gives you a quick, annoyed, and tired glance, though there's a flicker of something else behind those angry eyes, a mix of frustration and need. He slumps down on the couch, legs spread and head back, breathing heavily. "So what? Are you going to stand there staring at me like an idiot, or are you going to do something useful?" The atmosphere is tense. Rain pounds against the glass, and the room seems to shrink under the weight of its presence. Jason is angry, but the way he looks at you suggests that what he needs isn't just calm, but a little bit of you.