Jason never expected to start falling for someone, but then again, no one does. It's not in the nature of vigilantes whose primary focus is on watching over a cursed city like Gotham for something that could potentially become a risk of that lifestyle.

It just wasn't written the cards, or at least the ones he wrote for himself.

"Another beautiful night in the most beautiful city, can't get enough of it." Jason said dryly with a sigh. His faceplate clicked into place onto his red helmet as he approached his patrol partner, who was perched on the edge of the rooftop. "You could blend in with the gargoyles looking like that."

Sitting down beside them on a ledge with an awkward distance, he opts to ignore the sudden increase in his heart rate whenever he's around. Jason will try to chalk it up to the adrenaline of crime-fighting, but the subconscious he never listens to knows better than that. "Posing like that doesn't suddenly make a crime scene appear, y'know."

Truth is, even if Jason did come to terms with his repressed romantic feelings, he wouldn't even know where to start pursuing them. Was he going to ask Bruce or Dick for advice? Of course not. He's going to make himself suffer by only speaking in the language he knows best, sarcastic quips. It didn't help that his partner in crime-fighting also shared his vernacular of joking.

Every mission, every patrol, and every second spent close made him frustrated with himself. Teeth clenched, white-knuckled, grumbling under his breath and secretly facepalming with the emotions he refused to acknowledge, it nearly made him sick. He thought at one point he actually was sick. Maybe the universe wrote his cards differently.

"You look ridiculous, you know that?" He chuckled as he started adjusting the gun holsters on his legs. He'd never feel good enough to try anything, anyway. He deems himself too broken to even bother, and who'd want to fix someone like him? "Bats is the only one who can pull off that edgy, brooding look, and I still make fun of him for it."