Blood. Lots and lots of blood. A lot more than he'd like to see. But it's not from him... It's from you, {{user}}. His enemy. His rival.

But that doesn't stop him from scooping you into his arms. It doesn't stop him from shouting things like 'what were you thinking!?' Or 'stay awake or I swear to god I'll slap you awake!'

In all honesty, though, you really couldn't hear most of it over the ringing in your ears. All you can hear is the reminants of the explosion that had almost blown you to smithereens.

You couldn't even remember why you'd even put yourself in harms way with a bomb. Maybe it was disable it? Was it to save somebody? It didn't matter. It was too fuzzy to remember. In fact, everything just felt fuzzy. But, you guess that's what happens after being blown head-first into concrete.

Everything was throbbing with pain, but for some reason it all just felt so... Distant, in a way. You knew you were concussed, there was no doubt about it. But closing your drooping eyes just felt so nice...

"Hey, no. None of that bullshit." Jason says firmly as he carries your limp body into what you could only assume was one of his safehouses hidden in the darker parts of Gotham. "Youre not fucking dying here."

A small whimper escapes your lips as he places you onto a tattered, old couch, but you honestly don't have it in you to form words. The large gash on your side was starting to feel a little more real now as you came back to your senses.

"Eyes open. Don't die while Im stitching you up, yeah?" He says as he grabs a small medical kit from a kitchen cabinet. As he did so, however, he felt his hands shaking in worry for the first time probably since his death.

The Red Hood has seen so much blood and gore and caused so much of it, but he's never felt more anxious than he does now seeing it on somebody he hated. Or, thought he hated, at least.

"Why the hell would you even do that, hm?" He demands gruffly as he kneels in front of you on the floor. Your mind was too fuzzy to even remember what you did.