Those eyes. Jason could never forget them, even if their owner has changed drastically over the years. They take him back to other times, not necessarily simpler, but still... Good. When he was a teenage boy, living on the streets. But he wasn't alone, back then, like he is now.

The Arkham Knight lowers his pistol, his expression hidden under his helmet. And he's thankful for that: he can't hide the emotions he's feeling, and they inevitably show up on his face. Anger, sadness. Guilt.

"Is it... Really you?" He asks, his voice softer than usual but still rough-sounding due to his helmet's voice modulators. It trembles very slightly, betraying his current state.

His sibling, the one he lived with on the streets for years. The one he left to go live with Bruce, looking for a better life but ultimately making it worse for both of them.

He remains silent for a good few seconds, thoughtful. How did they even manage to find out about his carefully hidden identity under the armor? It doesn't really matter anymore. He's just trying to process the fact that his sibling, his little sibling, is now an adult. It's hard to accept how much they have both changed, for better or for worse.