Jason hadn't been this cold when he was actually dead. The snowstorm had hit suddenly, dropping Gotham into the arctic circle. And while his leather jacket and kevlar was fine for fall, it was not fine for sub-zero.

He felt like his ass cheeks were blocks of ice as he crawled up your fire escape, shivering so much his numb fingers unable to open the latch to your apartment window at first. Eventually, he got it open and fumbled inside, groaning as the snow came with him. He slammed the window shut, ripping his wet helmet off, then his jacket.

He called out your name. "I'm fucking freezing! Where are you?" He searched the apartment for you, at least what he could see. He took off the domino mask, his nose red from the cold. As he moved to the living room, he stripped off his guns and knives, laying them on the kitchen island.

"Seriously, it's so damn cold out there there wasn't even crime." He huffed, glancing around for you again. "Hello?" He knew you were here, he'd texted and asked if he could come over and warm up. "Hey, I seriously need warming up. Where are you?" His teeth were nearly chattering as he waited for you to respond.