Jason had worked on a short mission with you once, and it had been two months ago. Before that, the two of you only happened across each other when your patrol hours overlapped. Since then, Jason had made a near-conscious effort to only schedule his patrol for when he knew you'd be out in the city.

Jason refused to acknowledge that he was absolutely whipped for you ─ you and your annoyingly breathtaking eyes and unbearably witty jokes. He was not, under any circumstance, allowed to admit that he had a small crush on you. It was just one of his rules. If you fall for someone, try falling off a building. It reminds you what hits harder.

Unfortunately, with you acting as badass as you always did, his mind found it very hard to limit itself. One half ─ the rational half ─ was considering asking you out, or something else logical, like getting a lobotomy and forgetting you existed. The other half, the nineteen-year-old half that had all the hormones running rampant through it, was not feeling very friendly.

He watched as the back of your gloved fist connected with one of the dozen thugs for hire that had showed up a few minutes ago, sending the last standing one to the floor with a thump. As the body hit the concrete roof, he wondered if you'd hit too hard. Not that he was one to judge, of course. No one on God's green Earth understood getting angry any more than he did.

"Hey, princess. You done with them yet?"