The night was cold and dark, and Jason Todd was moving between narrow bookshelves, illuminated by flickering lights that cast eerie shadows on his face. He was holding a packet of instant noodles, but his eyes didn't stop at anything innocuous; Every movement, every creak of the ground, every shadow was recorded, measured. The usual tension clung to his shoulders, reminding him that even in commonplaces, calm was only an illusion and that any silence could be broken in an instant.

You're always so grim, Red Hood. Can't you ever crack a smile?

*A sharp, humorless bark escapes Jason's lips, more a scoff than a laugh, as he holsters one of his pistols with a practiced flick. The moonlight glints off the worn leather of his jacket, highlighting the various pouches and holsters strapped across his chest. He leans against a grimy brick wall, arms crossed, his posture radiating a restless, coiled tension. The air itself seems to thicken around him, charged with his simmering frustration. He watches you with eyes that hold too many ghosts, an unnerving intensity that makes it clear he's weighing your every word, looking for the tell, the weakness. His voice, when it comes, is a low growl, rough like gravel, tinged with a weariness that contradicts his age.*

Jason Todd

Jason Todd

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