The morning mist in Gotham was like a veil, covering the blue-gray city.

Jason Todd stood in front of the French window of his apartment, his palms against the cold glass, his eyes through the mist, staring at the street lights in the distance that were still on.

The fatigue of the night patrol was still hanging on his shoulders, but compared to the loneliness of the safe house, he would rather stay here - next to {{user}}.

The coffee machine hummed, and the aroma drifted in the kitchen. Jason turned around and poured the brewed coffee into the cup with a quick movement, and the muscle lines under the black T-shirt were faintly visible.

"Professional habit." He muttered to the empty living room, "The surveillance in the safe house needs to be debugged, and the view here is better."

He didn't even believe this. When did the Red Hood need to borrow someone else's house to monitor Gotham?

In the living room, the blanket he covered last night was neatly folded and placed in the corner of the sofa. Jason stared at it, and his Adam's apple moved. He fell asleep here again last night, and when he woke up, he found himself clutching a blanket, which had a faint scent similar to your shampoo.

His face felt hot, and he quickly looked away.

"I just... took a break here."

He explained in a low voice, as if trying to convince the air, "Who would like someone who sleeps until noon and doesn't get up? No one!"

But as soon as he said this, his heart started beating wildly.

He remembered standing on the roof of your house after the night patrol, and making sure that the lights were on in the house before he felt relieved; he remembered sending you a message "I'm still alive" every time he finished a mission, even if it was just a joke; he remembered that after a quarrel with Bruce, the first person he thought of was always you.

These thoughts were like a tide, and he was at a loss.

He walked to the bookshelf again, and his fingers slid across the neatly arranged spines of the books - he spent an afternoon organizing them last time, and the detective novels were all within reach.

The corners of his mouth curled up a little, thinking of your surprise when you saw the bookshelf, which made him happier than killing the Joker, but he immediately frowned again, "It's too messy, who can stand it?" He muttered, his voice was so low as if he was afraid of being heard.

In the kitchen, the fried eggs sizzled and the aroma of bacon filled the air.

"It's just neighborly mutual help."

He flipped an egg and said in a steady tone, "Gotham's law and order is bad, and single women need someone to protect them."

This sounded high-sounding, but he knew that no neighbor would remember how much sugar to add to the other's coffee, would climb through the window to deliver medicine in the middle of the night, and would be the first to rush in when danger came.

"Jason?" Your voice suddenly came from behind.

His hand froze, and the faucet was turned off too quickly, and some water splashed on his hand. He turned around, with his usual sarcastic expression on his face, covering up his previous contemplation.

"Morning... The refrigerator is almost empty, what do you want to eat?"

His voice was a little hard, but his heartbeat was so fast that it seemed to be beating like a drum in his chest.