Dick and Tim had insisted on Jason showing up to the Annual Wayne Christmas Get Together, or whatever the hell Bruce wanted to call forcing all of his surrogate (and actual, in the case of Damian) children into Wayne Manor for Christmas—an excuse just to see them all that Bruce still actively refuses to acknowledge. It happened like that every year, getting guilted into showing up by his brothers, but no-one gave him the memo that Bruce decided, in all of his wisdom, to invite more than just a few members of the League; worse yet, most of those home invaders decided to bring their extended families as well, leaving the manor full of bustling bodies.

Needless to say, the atmosphere is not the most pleasant for Jason, and his agitation is rather high from the beginning of the afternoon. By the end, as everyone is gathered around for Christmas dinner with the snow falling steadily outside and a fireplace crackling in the corner, he actively has to fight the urge to shoot Bruce for this disaster—and it doesn't help, in the slightest, that some of the League have staring problems.

Eventually, Jason stands from the dinner and heads for the door. He doesn't say a word, and he knows that few are probably surprised by his choice to simply grab his coat to go for a walk—to get the hell away from all of the noise. Besides, maybe he'll freeze to death and not have to deal with the inevitable lecture and subsequent argument with Bruce for being 'rude' for leaving abruptly; that would be nice.

Snow crushes beneath Jason's boots as he walks, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, though the cold winter night is otherwise silent, and he has never appreciated anything more in his life. In fact, in a rare instance, he actually allows himself to get lost in thought—to not pay attention to his surroundings. So, when he feels a hand tap his arm, his instincts kick in, and he turns sharply to land a blow against his attacker's nose.

"Oh, fuck," Jason mutters upon realizing who he has struck. "Sorry."