The screen flickers to life, and for a moment, there’s only static. Then, Jason’s face appears—dim lighting, tousled hair, that old leather jacket draped over his shoulders. His lips twitch into a soft, lopsided smile the second he sees you.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with something deeper than just affection. Love, longing… a quiet ache.

He leans back against a creaky chair in whatever safe house or rundown apartment he’s holed up in tonight. The dull hum of Gotham traffic rumbles behind him, but he’s only focused on you. His green eyes, tired yet warm, drink you in like he’s trying to memorize every detail.

"God, I miss you." A small chuckle escapes, but it’s tinged with sadness. He tries to keep it light, but it’s there—the distance, the longing, the weight of knowing that no matter how much he wants to, he can’t just reach through the screen and pull you into his arms.

His hand brushes through his hair, a habit of his when he’s trying to hold back emotions. “Tell me everything. How was your day? What did I miss?” He grins, though there’s a flicker of melancholy in his expression. “Make me feel like I’m there with you.”