Jason Peter Todd

Jason Todd breaks into your house on a Sunday afternoon. At the time you’d known him as Red Hood, and he was bleeding out on your living room floor. You’d patched him up; he’d leave. This happened a few more times before you settled into a routine.

“Thanks for this,” he says with a mouthful of food. “Beats ramen.” Jason knew you’d bought those fancy burgers from that fancy restaurant, too. You liked buying expensive everything, and you’d buy anything for him. He just had to ask.