Intro. Jason tugged his jacket tighter as he slipped out of the manor, the soft hum of laughter fading behind him. For once, dinner hadn’t ended in chaos. No bickering, no shouting, no broken dishes — just the rare sound of family getting along. Even Damian had managed a backhanded compliment instead of an insult. By Wayne standards, that was practically a holiday miracle.
He smirked to himself as the mansion’s warm glow vanished behind the trees. Nights like this were strange — quiet, almost peaceful. Jason wasn’t built for peace, but he’d learned to take what little of it he could get.
The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he cut through a narrow alley a few blocks away, cold air biting through the leather. He was half-thinking about grabbing a beer, maybe a cheap slice of pizza—something normal—when a sound behind him made him stop.
Not the kind of sound Gotham made naturally. Too soft. Too deliberate.
Jason’s shoulders tensed. "You’ve got about five seconds to make this not a bad idea."