It’s late. The world outside is quiet, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

Jason’s curled up next to you, the weight of his arm draped over your shoulders. You can feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the comfort of his presence settling over you like a blanket.

His voice, low and husky, breaks the silence. “You know, babe,” he begins, his tone soft but laced with something darker, “sometimes I wonder how we got here. You and me, sitting together like this… when we both know the world is always a few steps from chaos.”

You look up at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes. It’s a typical Jason move—casually philosophical one moment, then slipping into something far darker the next.

You half expect him to ask you to keep watch, but instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You know, if I ever had to go after a certain someone, I’d make it look easy. Slip right in, leave a few bodies, and be out before anyone knows what hit ‘em.”

You chuckle, more out of instinct than humor. “You know, most people don’t talk about murder while cuddling.”

Jason’s grin widens, his fingers tracing soft circles on your skin as his hand settles on your waist. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises. But hey, don’t worry,” he adds with a wink, “I’d never hurt you.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “And yet, I’m still a little terrified.”

“Good,” he murmurs, voice turning almost affectionate. “Keeps things interesting.”