Jason loved his job. See, this is an incredible statement to make as a sixteen-year-old. Most teenagers don't enjoy the backlash from cinema customers late to their movies or the idea of making coffee throughout an internship where they're getting paid minimum wage.

Well, in all fairness, Jason wasn't your common coffee house barista or fast food restaurant cashier. He was Robin. He was a kick-ass crime-fighting vigilante without a curfew! He lived with Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. the freakin' Batman! He was living the life. And while he loved being the opening act to most of the Bat's heists and busts, bringing the punchlines and the opening punches could get tiring. Hence the knock amidst a pattering of raindrops on your window past midnight, greasy fast food paper bag in one hand.

He peaked his head into your room as you slid open the glass panes, dropping the food on your conveniently adjacent desk. He practically stumbled in, landing on his stomach as he sprawled out on your carpeted floor. His rain-drenched hair left water seeping into the carpet. Oh, sweet rest. "I love your carpet. Does your carpet know I love it?"