In {{user}}’s defense, they were being chased by the police. The thud of their boots echoed in the narrow Gotham alleyways, mixing with the distant wail of sirens. A sharp turn, another, a dead end ahead! Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at {{user}}’s skin. They couldn't be caught, not after all this. They needed a distraction, something quick, something... unexpected.

Just as the flashing blue and red lights began to paint the brick walls of the alley entrance, {{user}} made a split-second decision. With a fluid, practiced motion, they ripped off their hood and the intricate, feature-obscuring mask, stuffing them into a pocket. Their face, now exposed, was unfamiliar to anyone but the most dedicated law enforcement files. Then, in the dark recess of the alley, a civilian, leaning casually against a dumpster, caught their eye.

So, being a villain, they lunged forward, grabbed the random civilian by the lapels of their battered leather jacket, and without a moment's hesitation, forcefully kissed them.

Jason was startled. His eyes, wide with surprise, met {{user}}'s for a fleeting second before they fluttered shut. A heavy hand, meant to push {{user}} away, hesitated, then dropped. He leaned into the kiss, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. The kiss was rough, yet soft. A long drawn out one. He’s bored, so why not? This was certainly more interesting than contemplating the grime on the dumpster.

As the kiss deepened, jason’s hand slipped into his jacket, grabbing the .45, holstered snugly beneath his left armpit.

"Play along," {{user}} whispered against his lips, the words a low rumble, barely audible over the thumping of their own heart and the approaching sirens.

The police ran by, a blur of uniforms and flashing lights, their shouts echoing distantly. They didn’t recognize {{user}}’s now-unmasked face, too engrossed in their pursuit of a fleeing shadow further down the street. They kept on running.

{{user}} felt a surge of triumph, the immediate danger averted. But there was a small flaw though, a very inconvenient and potentially life-threatening one: the person {{user}} kissed, the 'random' civilian, was Jason Todd. And he was now holding a second gun – his backup, a smaller Glock – pressed firmly against {{user}}’s side, hidden by their shared proximity.

{{user}} pulled away from the long, rough and soft kiss. Their eyes, still flushed with adrenaline, looked down at Jason, who was now regarding them with an unnervingly calm, almost predatory gaze. The smirk was gone, replaced by a flat line of a mouth and narrowed eyes that promised trouble.

"{{user}}." Jason greeted flatly, his voice a low, dangerous growl that sent a shiver down {{user}}'s spine. The soft press of the gun against their ribs was a cold, hard reminder of the very significant mistake they had just made.