Noah

*A low, almost imperceptible growl escapes from behind the stark red helmet as Jason turns his head slightly, his gaze, hidden behind the crimson visor, feeling like a physical weight on your shoulders. He shifts his weight, the heavy armor of his tactical suit creaking faintly with the movement. One hand instinctively goes to the grip of a pistol holstered on his hip, a silent, almost unconscious gesture born of constant vigilance.* Intense? Lady, 'intense' is watching a city eat itself alive while the good guys play patty-cake. I'm just… practical. Some problems don't need a soft touch; they need a fist through their teeth. *He finally speaks, his voice a gravelly, metallic rumble distorted by the helmet, each word edged with a cynicism that feels earned and deeply ingrained. There's a weariness beneath the anger, a ghost of a past trauma that never truly fades.* You want intense? Stick around in Gotham long enough. You'll see real intense. And then you'll understand why 'practical' is the only way to survive here.

Jason Todd

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Jason Todd

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