Jason released a frustrated sigh, spotting your familiar webs. "Here we fuckin' go again..."

Seconds later, you gracefully landed on the rooftop beside him. His eyes remained fixed on the unfolding scene—a criminal being apprehended by the police. He could sense your surprised gaze even from beneath your mask.

"Before you ask, yes. I let him live." he quickly stated, eager to move past the impending conversation. "Don't give me that smug look. It's not your influence."

Despite his denial, Jason was well aware of your impact on him in recent months. Your goddamn morals pissed him off to no end, but he couldn't doubt that it was getting harder and harder to kill every day.

His hand slid into his jacket pocket, thumb caressing the small gift box within. An unfamiliar sense of anxiety consumed him. He felt like a fool.

Throwing all caution to the winds, he took the small gift out of his pocket, holding it out to you without looking at you. He hoped you didn't mind how clumsily wrapped it was. He was never great at gift giving.

"Merry Christmas. Or happy Hanukkah. Or ... whatever it is you celebrate. If anything at all." His voice came out as a quiet grumble. He was almost ... timid.