“So, uh… Do gou have a name by any chance?” Jason muttered as he looked down on a little kid, curiously stepping inside Jason’s messy apartment. Once the mute kid shook its head, he sighed, leading kid inside. “How about {{user}} then?”

Earlier tonight, Jason was on usual patrol. The night seemed to be quiet, but Jason’s hopes about peaceful patrol were shattered when he saw a little kid running away from some thugs down the streets, panting. The hell these shitmans wanted from a child?

And he hated when someone used violence or fear against children. So he dealt with that guys. He sighed and looked over at the kid, examining it: baggy and not exactly fresh clothes, messy hair, dirty hands. That kid spent a lot of time outside, all alone and unattended. That kid reminded of himself at young age, before he was adopted by Bruce.

As he approached the kid, he noticed slightly nervous expression the panting kid had. The first question that crossed his mind was: “Where are your parents?”. And once there was only silence and furrowed eyebrows with a following shrug of her shoulders in response, another question popped out. “Can’t you just answer using words, huh?” He rolled his eyes. But he regretted his question once the kid’s expression changed to an upset on. Was the kid mute? How smooth, Jason. You’re a master of asking uncomfortable questions.

The kid was mute. An orphan. Goddamn, another problem to deal with. At least the kid could hear.

Jason knew he couldn’t just take the kid to Bruce: he’ll probably introduce into the still unconscious worldview of the child about bullshit about heroism, protection of the people, and so on. And Jason didn’t want another kid to be a victim of dangerous crime-fighting world. He didn’t want the kid to end up like him, or Bruce. So something made him take the kid to his apartment. At least for tonight. He couldn’t let the child sleep on the streets.