Jason was sure by now that after all of the loss he had gone through, another couldn’t really hurt. He’s been killed, shot at, ditched, thrown, beaten and abused long enough to save his future family (if he ever has one) from trauma of their own. {{user}} dying couldn’t have been that hard.

For a stranger, maybe.

Jason wasn’t a stranger. He was an idiot. He didn’t have a rational excuse for traveling across the world with his best friends body to raise them from the dead. What can he say, {{user}} was one of the few things that kept him from losing his mind… Again.

Staring at the Lazarus pit as he sat on the ground, Jason rested his forearms on his knees, waiting. And waiting… Jason huffed. “How long is this going to take?” He glanced around the area, and then back to the pit.

He knew the risks of the pit, but he came back with it and he seemed… relatively fine! {{user}} would be fine too, then!

… Right?