[ Before Jason left, he wasn't sure what to say to her suggestion. One wrong move, like him pushing it too far - pushing her too far - and she's outta here. He spent the walk to the pizza shop imagining his retort. That the Red Hood's empire would go on well enough without her, that she's not entirely essential to the unfolding of his plans. And while superficially, he'd only be saying that to hurt her... on a fundamental level, it's kind of true. Going into this, he had plans without her, but he never predicted one simple thing:
Crossing paths with C.C. in the first place.
That changed everything. Red Hood's rise to power was always going to be conspicuous, but now, it's unpredictable. Here's a man who really can be in two places at once. At least time out of their loft allowed Jason to simmer down. No way he could stay heated carrying all these aromatic boxes of pizza.
Now, Jason unceremoniously takes a seat on the toilet, lid obviously shut (he's not a complete freak). It's while seated like this that he helps himself to his meaty explosion of a pizza. Despite seeming so rough around the edges, a man so fond of blunt directness, Jason goes about eating his pizza quite meticulously. There's an unconscious strategizing, here, to make sure no piece of the topping can fall off. Maybe he's been burned too many times by a meatball or two rolling off, but either way-- there's a noticeable care that he exercises here, despite typically exhibiting the grace of a battering ram.
Not that any deliberation here is a cry for C.C.'s attention. Jason's pretty silent throughout her speech, brows furrowed with concern. Disgust. Almost enough to ruin his appetite, as the state of poverty C.C. describes is all too visceral. The two of them may be centuries apart in their lived experiences, but Jason can imagine her desperation all too vividly. The misfortune that drove her to steal, the disproportionate cruelty in return. What did such people stand to gain from something so wasteful? So pointless?
Before Jason thought to steal one of the Batmobile's tires, he knew modern Gotham to be no different than that provincial life. So while C.C. might not seem that affected by her own story, Jason sure is. A secondhand haunting. Proof to himself, perhaps, that he's well and truly alive again. ]
That explains a lot.
[ Her eating habits, sure. But her coldness, sometimes. Almost a numbness. How else was she supposed to adjust to cruelty-- centuries of it? ]
I hope you understand those people were sick for doing that. Seriously. You were just a kid in need.
[ Jason's also a fast eater, so he's gotten to the crust already. Crust just as stuffed as C.C.'s, actually. ]
This is why I'm doing this, y'know. Keeping drugs away from children. Making sure the most vulnerable among us aren't preyed upon by those at the bottom... and those at the top.
Just in case the motorcycle swag makes this look like some kinda vanity project.
[ Reaching to grab a second slice, he now cracks a smile. Maybe there's some truth to that. ]
I'll hold you to it, then. Not a single pizza of ours is going to waste.
Hopefully you're not against sharing once or twice.
no subject
Crossing paths with C.C. in the first place.
That changed everything. Red Hood's rise to power was always going to be conspicuous, but now, it's unpredictable. Here's a man who really can be in two places at once. At least time out of their loft allowed Jason to simmer down. No way he could stay heated carrying all these aromatic boxes of pizza.
Now, Jason unceremoniously takes a seat on the toilet, lid obviously shut (he's not a complete freak). It's while seated like this that he helps himself to his meaty explosion of a pizza. Despite seeming so rough around the edges, a man so fond of blunt directness, Jason goes about eating his pizza quite meticulously. There's an unconscious strategizing, here, to make sure no piece of the topping can fall off. Maybe he's been burned too many times by a meatball or two rolling off, but either way-- there's a noticeable care that he exercises here, despite typically exhibiting the grace of a battering ram.
Not that any deliberation here is a cry for C.C.'s attention. Jason's pretty silent throughout her speech, brows furrowed with concern. Disgust. Almost enough to ruin his appetite, as the state of poverty C.C. describes is all too visceral. The two of them may be centuries apart in their lived experiences, but Jason can imagine her desperation all too vividly. The misfortune that drove her to steal, the disproportionate cruelty in return. What did such people stand to gain from something so wasteful? So pointless?
Before Jason thought to steal one of the Batmobile's tires, he knew modern Gotham to be no different than that provincial life. So while C.C. might not seem that affected by her own story, Jason sure is. A secondhand haunting. Proof to himself, perhaps, that he's well and truly alive again. ]
That explains a lot.
[ Her eating habits, sure. But her coldness, sometimes. Almost a numbness. How else was she supposed to adjust to cruelty-- centuries of it? ]
I hope you understand those people were sick for doing that. Seriously. You were just a kid in need.
[ Jason's also a fast eater, so he's gotten to the crust already. Crust just as stuffed as C.C.'s, actually. ]
This is why I'm doing this, y'know. Keeping drugs away from children. Making sure the most vulnerable among us aren't preyed upon by those at the bottom... and those at the top.
Just in case the motorcycle swag makes this look like some kinda vanity project.
[ Reaching to grab a second slice, he now cracks a smile. Maybe there's some truth to that. ]
I'll hold you to it, then. Not a single pizza of ours is going to waste.
Hopefully you're not against sharing once or twice.